I'd rather

I’d rather be without breath,

and struggle for air.

I'd rather be the priest,

with no faith in prayer.

I'd rather lose the sun,

and endure the cold.

I'd rather be a hand,

without another to hold.

I'd rather be an eagle,

without its wing.

I'd rather be a nightingale,

without a song to sing.

I'd rather be the moon,

that fell from the sky.

I'd rather be a teardrop,

trickling from an eye.

I'd accept all of this,

without a single sigh.

If I could see you again,

without needing to say goodbye.