‘Well I know she’s had her this and her that… but if a man can tolerate his own past… why not a past in his wife?’
How sweet the nectar, how the beautiful blossom wonders why the birds and the bees swarm around it, how its poked and picked by those looking for a tomorrow, how it closes and opens, crying tender, invigorating spawns that feed colonies, bringing light, love and life to those who at its sight recover meaning. How sweet the nectar, the ignorant heart lays infused in the pressures of the mind; words, voices, pictures, dancing furiously in his thoughts, unable to dissect what the moment truly has for him, unable to recollect why the past navigated him to this unwelcoming partition. I know a young man, so sweet like nectar, a wild blossom with so placid a heart and so violent and volatile a mind, but sweet like nectar he remains, his beauty a gift wrapped in resplendent and complicated patterns that are only for angels to unravel.
May love always cast light upon where it touches, may this light bring warmth, may this light bring hope and may this light bring calm in the midst of chaos and darkness