If love were leaves, what color are its shade? red like blood? or clear like tears? from brutality love springs yet “soft” like tender, “heaven” like forever are words to describe its sensation cruel like deadly, fire like suffering are images that better explain its reality. Love is, until it isn’t. Love lives — here, there, anywhere, then love moves away, changing its address. Love imagines — what is, what this is. Love forgets — what was, what works. It feeds on your imagining. So, imagine your love, then love as you imagine. Even in its cruelty, yet find tender imaginations. Love doesn’t see, but it hears just fine. So, hear your love, then love as you hear. For love grows on your hearing, even in its suffering, yet profess forever love.
sing me a song, make me light show me art, gift me sight hold my hand, walk me slow kiss my lips, make me glow of all the days tough barely describes such a day of all the pains hurt barely captures all this weight so sing me a song, show me joy make me art, draw me close kiss my hand, touch my face hold my heart, walk my pace.