What shall I write

What shall I write
the hand asked the heart
for did it want to express
the troubles of the heart.

But the heart remained silent
as there was no way
to transform what was felt
into lines of ink just yet.

These sudden emotions
rumbled like thunderstorms above stormy waters,
untamable and unpredictable,
scarily dark and deeply sad,
but also so authentically fragile, beautiful and true (at least I thought).

It would take some time
for them to evolve into something the brain,
and maybe world, would be able to grasp.
Until then no words or letters could express
or live up to what was felt
so deep down inside.


This love

This love, it cannot be tamed, it cannot be kept safely within boundaries, it cannot last forever but it sure can be ignited every day anew. It can warm us from the inside on those frosty winter days, it can be the flickering but steady light in the seemingly endless dark. Whenever we are ready, whenever we open ourselves up to the world, to another, it can be there within us.
This love, it will not carry us like the wind carries the clouds, but instead it will be the hot fuel that keeps us going through day and night, through bright and dark, through sickness and health. It will be what takes us on that crazy ride through valleys and tunnels and high up on these mountains and back down, reminding us of what it means to be alive and to love and be loved.
This love, it can be anything we want it to be, it can be all we ever need or nothing at all. This love, it’s ours to shape, and ours to nourish and if we do so well, we can live from it forever.