For Love
The love of a sister. The love of a friend.
Pure love. Cruel love. Chaste love.
A love you crave and wither behind,
Weeping solitary to the whimpering wind.
Cold, icy love, cutting to the bone of being,
Cornering behind shelters that you built
Around your feeble heart. Reaching
Through every barrier, around every shield.
It burns away the fairy-gauze thinness of mind
Until it hits soul, which it swiftly engulfs.
There is no escape. No relief.
Sheer passion, like the dancer for the dance.
The painter for a white canvas,
The child for Christmas Day.
Demonic love. All destroying, grasping love.
Never destroyed. Never grasped. Always loved.
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