Through what fire and revelation,
what loves have scorched us so,
what vines have wrapped themselves
so sure around our feet,
what webs have we untangled,
left hanging in dusty cellars,
been left hanging on
bare walls.

What love have we longed for,
with what truth we have sought,
and seeds we have sown within
for the times which passed by
without a glimpse in our direction,
unrequited and bereft
of the dust which so dutifully
held us in place for too long.

For what is the matter
of such strife and martyrdom
in comparison to the love in which you have given,
and to what end have these things manifested
to become such stepping stones as
the things that
led me to
you.