Aug 2020
“A man will leave his father and his mother and he must stick to his wife and they must become one flesh.” A burning plagued my side and in her I found the reason why. Each morning as I stared at her picture, I thanked Him; and every night just the same. A complement, sculpted by the hand of God himself, it seemed, just for me—everything I needed, everything I never knew I wanted. Before I even truly knew her and was trying to pawn off my heart to someone else, it already ran away, leaping into her arms. It’s true what I've heard some men say: “The most precious possession that ever comes to a man in this world is a woman's heart”
I don’t believe in fate, yet it still feels that I was born to love her. Every event that has ever happened in my life, everything molded me into a character for her heart and only hers. She was never a trial, it was never a struggle coming to love her; simply natural, like day giving way to night. Not before long, we experienced a bonding of mind and heart, a grafting of two souls that not even the most skilled of surgeons could replicate. Although no one is perfect, there is nothing about her I would change. For centuries love has been captured in song, verse, canvas, and stone; I believe it is she and I that all these artists have been alluding to. After all, she is already the archetype, the ultimate beauty that these very artists could only dream of capturing. She is my reason for leaving behind father and mother, even myself and every previous course of action if so necessary. Without her, there is only a little bit of me left.
Yet here we are, distanced, paying the price for our untimely love. A shooting star streaked across the sky and I wished upon it. But I guess it does make a difference who you are because she’s still not here beside me. When not compared to her, this vision really is as magnificent as she said it would be. Thus, even after a failed wish, I watch the sky because I know the Universe is something that she finds intriguing. And maybe we’ll be gazing at the same star so, in some way, we’ll be nestled up there together—aflame like a blue dwarf with our love, instead of so distant like Pluto and the Sun. She is my world and now that she’s gone my heart has little left to stand on.
“Remember me when you get into your Kingdom,” pleaded an evildoer hung alongside Jesus. And it is this Kingdom which gives so many the strength to live and endure. But my heart keeps beating, white cells keep fighting, I keep persevering for her. The future will bring her to me again, I know it will. When I’m bent over like a tree beaten by the wind with not many years left of my life, she’ll still be a cherished rose garnishing my frayed limbs. A fragrant flower of exquisite color, such beauty it causes the heart to rejoice, so delicate and graceful yet mighty in power so as to keep life in these aged veins. Never in all my years will I live for anyone other than her; never in all my years will my love for her wane. “Bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh”—she is my Paradise. She is worth the wait.
I don’t believe in fate, yet it still feels that I was born to love her. Every event that has ever happened in my life, everything molded me into a character for her heart and only hers. She was never a trial, it was never a struggle coming to love her; simply natural, like day giving way to night. Not before long, we experienced a bonding of mind and heart, a grafting of two souls that not even the most skilled of surgeons could replicate. Although no one is perfect, there is nothing about her I would change. For centuries love has been captured in song, verse, canvas, and stone; I believe it is she and I that all these artists have been alluding to. After all, she is already the archetype, the ultimate beauty that these very artists could only dream of capturing. She is my reason for leaving behind father and mother, even myself and every previous course of action if so necessary. Without her, there is only a little bit of me left.
Yet here we are, distanced, paying the price for our untimely love. A shooting star streaked across the sky and I wished upon it. But I guess it does make a difference who you are because she’s still not here beside me. When not compared to her, this vision really is as magnificent as she said it would be. Thus, even after a failed wish, I watch the sky because I know the Universe is something that she finds intriguing. And maybe we’ll be gazing at the same star so, in some way, we’ll be nestled up there together—aflame like a blue dwarf with our love, instead of so distant like Pluto and the Sun. She is my world and now that she’s gone my heart has little left to stand on.
“Remember me when you get into your Kingdom,” pleaded an evildoer hung alongside Jesus. And it is this Kingdom which gives so many the strength to live and endure. But my heart keeps beating, white cells keep fighting, I keep persevering for her. The future will bring her to me again, I know it will. When I’m bent over like a tree beaten by the wind with not many years left of my life, she’ll still be a cherished rose garnishing my frayed limbs. A fragrant flower of exquisite color, such beauty it causes the heart to rejoice, so delicate and graceful yet mighty in power so as to keep life in these aged veins. Never in all my years will I live for anyone other than her; never in all my years will my love for her wane. “Bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh”—she is my Paradise. She is worth the wait.
