***
There’s a stain calling out for fire’s name just outside my window.
A sight of dark red and shades of orange coloring the air my lungs breath in. the color they exhale... you don’t want to know.
There’s a light, it’s faint, but it’s a light, the voices of thousands of passionate souls
the same souls that have been the fathers of history as we know it.
they have been fighting their entire existence, they’ve been breeding to fight yet again.
The word in my mouth is the same that comes out from their mouths, but I’m not them. They could never be me. One who was built to love with roses in arms, smiles of sympathy in her lips, sparks of warmth in her eyes as she watches her love step in.
Be it now or then, they could never be me like nobody can teach me. Nobody can teach the parents of human history to love the magnitude of love.
This one single soul, belonging to whom fears nothing but cares greatly and knows awfully too much, more than they do.
After all, loving holds all truth ransom, holds all that lives well protected under its wings. **
