Poets

I wait for love that does not find me. I survive in the mud to become clean. I die to their nature to find life. Life is pain... but this experience is what we have chosen, this path is a holy path. She is waiting, she is moving. Closer. Back to my arms, back to our glory, back to a love that has not been seen since Christ. Pain has a payoff. I would not have ordered the misery in my life without it. It is all a matter of faith. And I believe. I look rough, feel worn, but her love shall be my robe, the jewels in her eyes my crown. And I will be her terrible power, her warmth, her everything. Life is love... but it must possess you, like a spirit that can never die, an action without regard to consequence, a fuel to propel you. I will return.