~

think again if you believe
light is but a rapid blur,
consider that the spark
that lives between
two lover-friends, is light
exchanged in slow fashion;
the slow burn of a campfire,
the sparkle of her passion,
the flicker of a candle,
whisperings of the starlight,
the way a moon beam
bends the tides,
and makes her eyes twinkle;
each my confirmation,
of light that moves
so satisfying slow,
allowing flames to ever grow
ever higher, higher,
kindling sparks into a fire,
for love that lasts
is not a spark alone...
no,
love’s passion is a bon fire,
a sunset setting sky aglow;
an ever-building slow,
to effervescent ether;
a gently flowing kiss,
a living, colored tapestry
of drifting twilight mist;
this the speed of light...
my heart’s desire,
mirrored in my lover’s eyes.

~

*post script.

love at the speed of sunsets and star gazing;
evenings spent round the campfire
with only the light of the fire,
the stars and that sparkle in each other's eyes...
falling in love, all over again!

gently swipes each poem,
tablet formatted, line by line,
upwards, studying it,
thinking on it,
pausing,
then with another swipe, northward,
falls in deeper,
savoring the entirety

she mails me a completion notice,
with a kiss upon the tip of
my
writing forefinger,
the same, the very same forefinger,
that swipes her cheek,
upwards studying,
the poem of her face,
the softness of each line of verse,
thereupon inscribed,
savoring her entirety

There is a word

More powerful than any other...

Mythologised,

Romanticized,

Deified.

Men would fast for it,

Fight for it,

Live for it,

Die for it,

In hopes it could be passed

From one generation to the next.

Religions have been founded on it.

Countries went to war for it.

Way before Tolkien devised one ring to rule them all

There was a word,

Whispered and screamed.

The word was peace.

All I ask

Is don't tell me

Show me.