Poem: Balance

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder..."
Leaving her I feel a glowing joy;
a shine; a star; a Luck.

Seeing her seeing me leave,
I see a misery; damp-rot;
sadness; mourning.

"That the pain of division
is as nothing...
and the joy of dissolution
all."

The sorrow of leaving
should be overcome
by the joy of meeting again.

For me, this is true.
For her, it is not.

Is this balance?