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I am Dark, feeling Light

And the winds whip through my hair,
blinding me in brown red tendrils, threads of myself.
I look to the skies and remember,
all that I was and all that I am
all I will become in time.
I love him,
I cried to the winds,
and does he love me back.
I will die for him,
I screamed to the sky,
would he die for me?
I would kill for him,
I yelled to the earths,
would he kill for me?
No
Then what is love, if not passions inflamed?
Love is the heart, the soul,
kindness, and gentle carresses.
Love is passions,
passions of red, bodies intwined,
hearts beat together in time, in beat, as one.
Love is not death.
Nor is it destruction.
Love is light, not dark.
I stand upon the hills,
trees surround, green dark, black.
Winds whip my hair about my face,
red brown, blinding me, in my mouth, choking me,
I love him,
I cried aloud,
fists to the heavens.
Does he love me back?
I would paint days of sun, and blues,
would he paint them for me?
I would smile, and bring forth cheer to all,
would he do that for me?
I would fall to my knees and pray,
would he pray for me?
No.
Then what is love, if not light, and kindness?
Love is the heart, the soul,
of acceptance for who you are.
Love is passions, for all that is diffrent.
Love is not falseness.
Real, not fake.
To love, you do not become what you are not, to obtain it.
I fall to my knees, hands in supplication.
Winds blow my hair, blinding me, choking me,
cannot see, cannot speak.
I cry in my mind,
Then what do I feel?
I love him,
as he is, for who he is,
I would die to shield him,
kill to protect what he cares for.
To twine my flesh to his,
my heart beats, in tandem.
I would paint my days of shadows,
he in the mists, and me in the dark, watching his light.
I would fall to my knees, to adore him,
I pray to myself, for him.
And I ask,
does he love me?
What is it I feel.
What is love, if not those..
what am I, if not a dark love?
Love is light, not the dark.
What is love?

Posted: Sat Sep 19, 2009 11:53 PM CST