Alas,
The painted passion of my
soul
that from birth has raged
and waged war of long,
yes, the passion so raw,
that few know her voice
she kissed me when
young,
promising me much,
and she sealed it with
a kiss planted in
tenderness
few I have met,
on my journey alone,
who knew her hushed whisper,
or painted raged roar
for she cries like the wind
and yes, rages as the angry sea,
as she rakes my very heart daily
in brushstrokes harsh and brisk
she often and equally
touches me softly as well
as she braids the very sunset
of my soul with her breath,
and awakens once locked
and lost dreams
that once laid quiet within me,
on the bottom tablet of my soul
she walks and roams
without ceasing
traipsing about on the inside
walls of my heart
and she sleeps never,
as her fire never dims
yes, lighting my pathway
unto the threshold of my
dreams not yet touched
she enters uninvited,
unexpected as well
as she cast her mantle
about me
and bids me good journey
she stilts my soul
as she exhales my essence,
as I inhale hers upon
times innocent breath
she yes, remains mine,
as I remain hers
and in time shall we walk
till we each are
no more....