There is no such thing as to be ready or not ready for love. If you are afraid of commitment it is because you haven't yet kissed the lips of true blessing; the spark that will burn with light and passion has not been yet cast. No fear can be victorious in battle against love. No rational thought can eradicate the heart's desire. The body's court of justice will be biased towards tender affection and any judgement will rule in favor of it. When genuine love is put into a scale, even the smallest bit of it will make its side heavier. Like energy, passion and attachment cannot be destroyed and like a Star, it may take a lot of time for love's warmth to fade into an icy corpse of absence. But who can say the end will not be blistering cold?
I hid my heart from you for too long
And you forgave me for my blunder
Our passion roared like thunder
A storm that whistled like a song
Absence is to love as wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small and kindles the great
— Roger de Bussy-Rabutin, Memoir of Roger de Rabutin
Dear Venus of my Heart,
The Solstice of blue, once flourishing with fiery flowers red, the petals of our garden froze. The chimney of our cabin of dreams, ambitious as Alexander's attainments, pops with the fog of the remnants of heat. We used to defy the now frozen roaring raging river of time and drink from the abstract notion of forever. For me, it felt like years embracing the elation of our entangled hearts, despite the days that went by. But reality is a grey mirror, and, in a hoard of wretched ways, I wronged you. Our Ecstasy, even extremely enlivening, was fleeting in behalf of my secret despair.
A mellow nose
Gorgeous as the moon
Mirrored in the lagoon
In a field of red roses by the lake,
A white rose calls up to the sun
With her beautiful petal scarf
And her cheerful smile
'Why did you do this for me? ' He asked. 'I don't deserve it. I've never done anything for you.' 'You have been my friend, ' replied Charlotte. 'That in itself is a tremendous thing.'
- E.B. White Charlotte's' web
Blooming violet, ghost
To the prayers who mourn
and to the mourners who pray
To the seekers of faith
as to believe, warmth bring it may
To the once blooming violet, is it true?
Will she succumb her petals to the burden of time?
Will I be witness to the ripples of this crime?
Is the storm to drown her in skies darkened blue?
Flowing under winter
Is the warmth of a fading love
That once was on the surface
But now struggles to be shone