Love is the blossom
that grows not apart
that winks like a shadow
on the sun’s burning heart
Love is the softness
that tames yet remains wild
breaking or mending
yet is innocent like a child
It holds not a difference
it tears not apart
it gathers all passings
in seams of tender scars
Love is the asking
that needs no reply
bruising and healing
stays or walks by
Love is the chamber
that holds no regrets
it keeps and releases
it rises and sets
Love is the gift
you cannot return
it is not destined
for ashes
with immortality
it blazes and burns
The Paths of the Spirit 