THORNS OF LOVE



As the Thorn Protects the Rose, My Pen Preserves Our Love



THORNS OF LOVE

How wonderful it is, my Dearest Love, to awaken to your soft, warm face staring into mine.

I know, it is a fantasy, an illusion, an apparition.

But, my Love, I yearn for the mornings when reality consumes the fantasy, shoves aside the illusion, and erases the fog of the apparition.

True Love is believing that what can be will be.  

Despite the fact we are apart or great gulfs separate our Oneness, I still reach across the chasms of time and space and wrap your thought in my arms, holding you close, inhaling the breath of your lovely pores so your scent never escapes my senses.

For most men, loving what can be is tiring and fruitless.  To such men, clinging to the threads of Love is grasping at straws.   The average man’s head swings away from the Illusion of Love to its Reality.  Urgency trumps purpose.  To the impatient, Any Love will edge out the time demanded to realize True Love.

But I wait, my Darling.

I hold onto the thin threads of Love as though they were thick intertwined hemp.   I don’t fear the darkness of not being Loved in return.  Instead, I cleave fast to the Persian expression “he who wants a rose must respect the thorns.”

There are many thorns protecting the Rose of Love, the Rose of Our Love.

True Love, I believe, is earned, my Darling.  The Thorns of Love temper Love.

To earn your Love I must lay many roses at your feet, scribe tens of thousands of words pooling in my heart that reflect my deep love for you, and dream mountains of dreams about what will be when are together, as one, unified.  I must be relentless in my fidelity to you, and let nothing contaminate my waking thoughts except how such a thought relates to the depth and quality of my Love for you.

This is not an easy task.  I confess, I battle waves of frustration, avalanches of loneliness, tsunamis of sadness.

With each breath, I fight off the Thorns of Love.  I inhale with each breath your beauty and magnificence as a woman, a perfect person, a sensual being whose every heartbeat is a symphony, awakening the joys of nature, a being who ignites the stars and shines the moon, who perfumes spring flowers and purifysthe driven snow.  I exhale loneliness, despair, discouragement, sadness.

Time freezes as I await your Love, my Darling.

I do not fret or fear the empty moments when you are not in my arms, for you remain a statue in my thoughts.

I Love you, my Dearest, my most Precious One.

I will always Love you in the allusion, and await the dawn of your Love’s Reality.

I cling fearlessly and forever, to the Thorns of Love.

Forever Yours,

Cyrano!

Anderson-McKenzie

 

As the Thorn Protects the Rose, My Pen Preserves Our Love


© 2012, Cyrano! Anderson-McKenzie, C.A. McKenzie. All Cyrano! writings are original and created daily by the author. Anyone wishing to contribute funds to the maintenance and support of the Cyrano! blog should send their contributions to C.A. McKenzie, 53 East 7th St. #9, NY, NY 10003