When was it in the heart of man to love?
Who planted that first orchid in the fire,
Then nurtured it with lifeblood from above,
Only to watch it wither into brier?

When was it that my eyes beheld your form?
A seed was planted in this fruitful soul.
It blossomed into White Delphinium,
A shared desire, a longing to feel whole.

It was my goal to keep you close to me,
As we lapped water from a passion spring.
Rejoice I did—this caged bird you set free!
But then you left before my voice could sing:

When was it in our hearts to suffer grief?
The truest form of love is, truly, brief.

If you will take anything
Take only my heart
For poor as it is
I have nothing else of worth

If you speak
Speak to it gently
For it is ignorant of all things
Save love for you

If you journey
Carry it carefully
For it overflows
With need for you

If you wish to keep it
Forever it is yours
For it can never
Fit the hands of another

If you go
Do not return it
For I will have no need
Of an empty heart

Wine and Saffron petals.
Dripping with dew.
My leaves unfold.
No root is askew.
Here I am waiting.
You’re finally in view.
I’m now in full bloom.
If only you knew.
-elb

There’s no death in these
Forests deep in your eyes
Only love

Her eyes burn with a fire that lit my days

She moved with a grace that did not abade

When her lips touched mine my breath would fade

Lost in my love for her I would remain

But alas she was a spirit not to be tamed.