For my wife…


This hour of need my temptress indeed,

For such things that test my very best,
Are the very things that set me free.


She came to me in a dream, somehow real, somehow not. She touched me, raised me up, and gave me hope. She showed me all that I am, and all that I am not. She whispered softly in my ear as the breath that cleared my mind, she comforted me as the breeze on a hot summer day, and laid me softly down on a bed of hope as soft as the clouds that scampered by outside my window. I felt a burning love not felt before, a desire in my throat that stifled the cry my lips could not utter. She was me, she was someone else, and she just could not temper the reaction that my ego and mind simply could not stifle.

As this river of time flows by, I see how she cools me and quenches my thirst. I sense nothing but everything around me and I can feel my grip on me letting go, releasing that which is, and what is not. Such light of life cascades around me as the big bright sun burns at my soul, the pain of the heat intense as it scorches those outer layers that time and life has baked on me. She is relentless in her tests, refusing to compromise on what I can be, completely unable to relinquish the me that only she can see.

Such is love, the Lady that has grabbed me the first we met, the chisel which bears down on the me that I am not to uncover the me that I am. When we touch, I can sense the dawning of each new day, a bit different than the day previous, even if only slightly. It is such love the binds us, such love that holds us, and such love that tests us. It is the essence of the we bound not by rings, not by vows, but by something unseen and unknown that was created on the dawn of Creation.

Once I was violent, and you calmed me,
Once I was angry, and you soothed me,
Once I had no hope, and you gave me light,
Once I had no idea, and you showed me the way.

I do beg of you, than in our greatest time of need and in our greatest hour of triumph, you remember not that which I seem to be, but that which I am. Certainly such a muse cannot be left unchallenged, for we are the challenge in each other. In such thought do you bathe in the knowledge that it is me who could grace your old age? Do you bask in the knowledge, as I do, that such thoughts are ours to have beyond our youth? I give you all that I can at this moment, and although certainly not enough in most, can it be more than enough in others? When you see me, do you see only darkness or can you see even the smallest speck of light?

Such questions asked in small detail,
Are not so small indeed,
For in essence they ask all of you,
To love that which is all of me.
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