A pastel heaven settles atop a falling flame slowly eclipsing itself in depths of liquid turqouise. The soft cascades foam and gently rush over polished stones only to recede and glimmer in the aurora skies as warm winds breeze past a chilled silhouette tracing the water's footprints.
If love were as this, then itself as the image would displace my universe and threaten my soul with happiness.
If love were as this, then no association of washing away sands and water as its successor would be made but realized that if love were as this - the sand is not replaced only replenished to withstand yet another pass over polished stones and the precious toes of those regarded with true and absolute passion.
I no sooner have fallen into this beautious virtue of fervency, and as these affection-drowned eyes look past the distant horizon, my once covetting soul emits with abundance.
If love were as this, then we are a willful slave unto it, and within our spirit a new faith will give us strength to hold on till eternity reaches its ending
and time is frozen
still.
Adding your comment:
thanks for sharing...good luck.
