Forward, Not On

Fear
of even the ink that stains the page, for
what comprises the Heart 
from which the black blood spills?
what will come out once the Heart is opened?

Love
if You told me that
a flower from the                  other side of the world
casts a fragrance in which you find
even some Pleasure

Journey
I would undertake.
through Hell, through Storm and Tempest;
to bring back enough petals, redolent.
to kindle the trace of a smile upon your lips;

Love
Breaking sleep, to
watch a swift sunrise, everlasting,
for its Beauty is captured in 
Your eyes, windows of iridescent glass,
which send forth Eternity, into my soul;

Longing
if Your eyes be set upon a Mountain
then no heights would shake my legs; 
they would wander, ere long nights under 
the Stars, to set themselves 
on that Mountain with You;

Love
to see the world in
all its Squalor, all its
             Terror and through the Miasma to
see You, and to realize 
Beauty, in your face as in a fiery sunset;

Grief 
where once Your voice
Rang like a crystal chime
in the depths of Night.
now, I am left with an
           Echo, only in my head;

Love
found in the warmth of Your hand
in the grace of Your laugh
to know that when
that hand is in my own
I find          Elysium;

Forward
must I move, through. Not "on," and
not of my will; I
drag my feet (happily) so that Ours
may travel upon worn roads
          together once more;

Love
a vast                        Space, paradoxical
Care, where that bleeding heart Screams
To hold on when I know
                 Space
is the finest gift I can give You.