Passion
I
was lost, drifting aimlessly without cause,
In
the night fog of a dead calm sea!
Until
I saw a beacon, flames flaring out and reaching,
From
your burning heart, shining brightly for me!
Love
is a delicate shoot, constantly seeking light from another soul in
order to grow. It drinks its nourishment through roots firmly
anchored in the soil of unconditional acceptance of what it is. It
is a vine that changes direction and willingly caresses the soul of
another without the choking and clinging poisonous tendrils of
possession and control. Love, always growing from the tip, is
sensitive and ever new. It never ages, does not grow a crusty bark
or thorns, nor does it hide its own light from others. It is not
angry or hateful; these are its mortal enemies. Left in a nurturing
environment, Love will flourish and produce the most beautiful and
fragrant blossoms for all to experience. But hidden from light it
will wither and die, leaving only a thorny stem for others to prick
their fingers on.
Dan
Bowlds 3/25/16
