i am one who loves on it’s not a pit stop it’s not a destination not a period in fact, it’s not punctuation, for, if it were it would be a pause or it would cease to commence my love is the sky it’s constant and reflects the beauty before it my love is the permanent bristlecone pine born to this world but withstands more than is deserved but withstands but stands no matter how abused and twisted it becomes it’s rebellious it doesn’t fall it adjusts it stands my love is a breeze isn’t always welcomed but always felt sometimes embraced sometimes hidden from but is unquestionably present my love is the ocean a deep dark of fear as sure of the unknown as sure as it’s existence only known by itself about itself stared at by those in pain however, never explored sung about by those in love sung about what is thought is known because it feels known always there always admired strong gentle movingly unmoved the only thing vacillating about my love, is the passing of time . the passing of years . never the depth . never the intensity . my love is art beautiful to some repulsive to others seen what is wanted to be seen by those seeing but will never not ever be understood not even by the artist at times to the future and the present : i do not apologize that my love is unassailable, for , if it weren’t you’d be an unvalued value to the past: love will be permanent but self-worth progress ambition will override . you will not be repeated ! my love is ...
