enough to carry me

The older I get the more cynical my views on being "in" love. It is an intoxication for the young; like alcohol. The buzz fades in time, yet we continue the chase until we rest beneath the daisies. The butterflies migrate from the body and return to the ether. Emptiness is left as the fragrance is bled from the blossom. All things wither and die. Love, life, and the pursuit of happiness. The memories are there. That is enough to carry me through the rest of my days.

I pine for the youthful vigor of love. But have outrun its reach. Now I wander into the fields of Autumn and dream. I am in love with the idea of being in love. That is enough to carry me through the rest of my days.

I remember the fall. Catching her. Seeing her smile. The rise. Regaining and maintaining altitude from the magic that her essence found in me. Watching the awe bleed from her eyes as we soared the upon the winds of peace, between the mountains of pain and into the valley of peace. It was there that I first glimpsed the shadow of darkness within her beauty. The doubt of purity. The jealousy of my faith and belief in love. She did not understand that I was teaching her to fly. As I turned to search the past, I felt her clip my wings. She failed to realize that love was not a destination, but a journey. She stranded us both. Forever lost.  She wandered into the night and left me alone. My love in and of itself was not enough for the two of us. Now I await the mountains to crumble and fill this chasm of emptiness. Her memory will keep me alive and in torment until that final day. That is enough to carry me through the rest of my days.

© Jan 2, 2014 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic