Friday, February 14, 2014

Two Hearts of Broken Stone

'Twas here my sweet, we first set jaundiced eye to jaundiced eye
while wand'ring through these mossy fields of random, broken stone;
this topographic mirror of two souls as you and I
these twisting waters seemed our blood, this rock, our scattered bone.
Were not our lives so tragic I believe we'd not have met.
The curse of inward leaning drew us both to seek this place;
the loss of those we struggle to set free yet not forget,
their gentle hands that held us close, their simple, boundless grace.
Yet why must love be fraught with pain and lives upended to excess.
Must each commitment come undone? Is love so cruel? Is risk so rash?
These questions are but acrid fuel to stoke the fires of loneliness,
we're better to ignore but love... that rises from our long stored ash.

In symbol now I promise you my heart, my hands, my every breath.
I toast to Valentine the priest; one man who loved, unto his death.

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