On Love

She crowns you, so shall she crucify.
She waters your soil, so shall she prune your branches.

Like sheaves of corn she’ll gather,
She’ll peal your husks and leave you naked.

Passion cares for passion and asks for nothing beyond itself.
She is the possessor and is not to be directed.
Her only desire to is fulfill herself and that will be your course.

—

Our orbits collided and a curiosity was born.
Through the very subtle alchemy of shared appeal and conversations over time,
Our chemistry made love, children, and a home,
Our combination, reactions through agitation, converted two strings
Into songs where we’re still finding the words.

Let’s celebrate the music between the strings, filling the space of our togetherness,
Where the waves of our sound dance between us.

This is not a bond, this is our love:
Notes that flood and recede between our vibrations.

Let’s give our hearts, but not into each other’s keeping.
For only the strumming can contain our hearts.
And let’s dance together with joy yet allow the other to stand alone:
For the pillars of this house stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.

(with respect to Kahlil Gibran's The Prohet)