This Love.

image

Joy, beautiful spark of divinity.” ~ Ludwig van Beethoven┬ávia poetry by Friedrich Schiller

This Love.

This love, torturing me. Moving my tender heart ceaselessly with its exquisitely painful, yet beautiful song.

This love, a chorus of sirens so hauntingly lovely upon approach, I must lower the sails to listen, even as their bittersweet requiem will surely kill my yearning soul with pleasure.

This love, a lilting, candlelit nocturne to who-knows-where we will be led next.

This love, softer than a cloud caressing herself until a new arrangement is made, a single movement at a time.

This love, resembling a score of waves lead by the moon as the sea, herself, laps blissfully against my skin.

This love, an ever teasing, solo mirage in this vast, heartbreakingly beautiful pastoral of Painted Desert sands.

This love, a choir of shifting stars and seas and sands in which I would willingly surrender to drown in.

This love, that itches so intensely that composure becomes impossible to feign. Continue reading