12/10/08

Flint and Spark

Words,
none that I wrote;
More,
the ones that escaped my throat:
What
I said to you,
My dear, was more than true;

Me,
have all that I am,
Quickly as you can,
As I lie fading from this life;

Hope,
all you can dream
All that it may seem,
As I go tumbling down the hill,
Wishing it were my will,
But going nonetheless, still;
Wanting you there,
Not leaving a care,
But being only in my arms;
Giving me all of your charms,
Saving me from the alarms,
Keeping me from all harms.

Life,
what do I know about life,
Struggles and silliness and strife;
I know only you at this moment,
You who holds me through this torment,
You,
who are my candle in the dark,
You are the flint for my spark.

Love,
what do I know about love?
Why should I, among all people,
Ring like a bell, high in a steeple?
Because you
have enlightened my heart,
Tore it down a few times,
And then remade it, as art.

Time erodes, and life goes,
But one thing remains ever true,
I have never loved another,
As much as I love you.


December 11, 2008, for Jan.

Copyright 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

2 comments:

  1. Sorry about that- my PC did a little hiccup on me and posted too soon.

    This is really raw, simple and touching work. Thank you for posting it here.

    ReplyDelete