The beginning of this was of love. We binded and braided and welded our hearts. We let sunflowers and hydrangeas and little soft jasmines bloom up our spines. We forged fires and icy capes and all things mythical within our minds. The middle of this was of war. We fought and broke and cut whatever we could. We let our monsters our knights our kings and our queens out. We sat and waited and watched and baited till one of us, none of us won. The end of this, I can only perceive Is of longing and trust. I can only see hope in our eyes And stardust glittering our skins, Even as I see my sins rubbing us raw And I see yours cutting me from within. And yet, the dawn breaks still - giving way to dusks twilights and midnight skies Regardless of the storms we brew or the earthquakes we evoke. And thus, As in nature As in Emerson's Rhodora As in Wordsworth's wildflower As in Stein's Rose And in Ophelia's Rosemary and Pansies too, I hope we find our way back in serenity and peace, Where touches still bloom And hearts still beat And minds are forever consumed. - M.A.