WHERE WE BOTH BLOOM.

Thou knowest how Thomas Phaer once said,

“The eyes are the windows of the soul.”

Well then,

thou art the sunflowers,

mine own most cherished bloom,

just beside my window,

blossoming through all seasons,

through sunset, rise, and tide.

True love beholdeth

the unfinished parts,

the sacred art

of continuance

despite all things.

Thou did bloom,

and bloom,

and bloom still,

filling the very air

till I mistook thee

for breath itself.

My muse,

I would kiss the ground

thou walkest upon,

for thou hast brought me to life

by setting mine ink

to run free upon the page.

I would devote myself,

wholly and truly.

Thus is love,

verily,

True love.