It Is Like

What is it like, this deep and burning love?

Like the wind blowing, hot and dry, taking up the leaves and the tall strands of grass and dancing with them, curving them into the motion already shivering up their spines, pulling each beat out like a thread. It is thick and heavy like the sound of a bell that is stopped, always, on the deepest and most imploring note; a resonating melody only felt by the touch of this wind, hot and dry, taking up the leaves and the tall strands of grass, dancing with them. 

As the movement begins all the colors of the burnt melodies rise up as blush and explode out of my lungs slowly and sweetly, cascading through my veins like thousands upon thousands of grains of light.  But it is rich and full, these thousands upon thousands.  The memories of all the earth bleed out of them and into my own heart, swelling with the warmth of all the ages, overtaking my soul in a bliss that cannot be contained by breath and breath alone.  As the movement begins all of time stops, and the sun spins closely out of control, held by the chasms of air wrapped about it, swinging like a pendulum as fire on a string.  Closer and closer, drawn by the rhythm of the movement to the warmth of the winds blowing through a field, hot and dry, taking up the leaves and the tall strands of grass and dancing with them.  My heart beats with the rhythm of the winds.  My skin tingles at the touch of the stopped bell, resonating through my being. 

What is it like, this deep and burning love?

Swinging slower than all of time, hot and dry, full and sweet, rich and beating.  As my being resonates with all the wind and sound having motion within itself, the air is thicker than blood and I am awakened.  My hands burn with something irrevocable, to feel this wind that encompasses my body so, blowing through the hollows of my lungs, carving out memories of a heartbeat that has always been and will forever burn the echo of it’s voice into the walls of my heart.  It is irrevocable, this passion and burning desire, birthing the sounds of eternity deep within the spaces of my ribs.  The wind blows, hot and dry, and all my bones are taken up like the leaves and the tall strands of grass, swaying and moving with a rhythm not my own.  Bursting out of their white sockets they become living, thriving--consumed by the warmth of the sun that is settling deeply into their core.  They peel back their barrenness and out of their husks come life.  I am resonating with life. Deeply the bones go as they dance and sway and peel back their barrenness while blood spills forth as light, tearing through the shadows of a land that has long slept.  I am being pierced by a wind, hot and dry, taking up my bones, like leaves, to dance, breathing into them the sun that swings closer still, wrapping them in a heat that burns away all darkness.  Deeply moved, the rhythm sinks, seeking all those places which cry out to be found.

What is it like, this deep and burning love?

Only irrevocable; ravaging my heart into what it has always been, seeking out the depths of the world written into the recesses of my core and ruining forever the illusion of naught.  To be changed into that which burns exceedingly brighter than even the sun, which swings closer for the warmth of a single touch.  I am like the wind that blows, hot and dry, taking up the leaves and tall strands of grass, blushing scarlet with the colors of melodies burnt through my skin.  I am like this deep and burning love, for it is in me, on me, and of me, and from it I can never be apart.