it didn't, as my dream suggested, happen.
just when the stew is about to come to a boil, the flame had dwindled, almost snuffed. but being the great chef that you are, you dragged me closer to huddle around the fire to keep it going.
it's ablaze and roaring again.
now i know what "protect protect" means. not only do we have to shield our heat from strong winds from without, sometimes it may mean keeping us from dousing the fire ourselves. the flame needs our constant throwing in of kindling and breaths of life.
it can't die. it can never die. to even think it, is unthinkable.
it's already autumn, love. thank you, for not letting the heat die. now i know we are ready for the cold. we've stocked up on firewood. we have gathered them together from our own forests, and have come out of the thick still holding hands.
sit beside me in front of the roaring fire. let's keep each other warm.
and please know, that i would give my last breath to keep us alive.
thank you, for teaching me.
love is what is left at the end of the day.
From: melbourne, victoria, Australia
About me: i'm a wanderlust and a warrior of life. i have hordes of nomads and soldiers waiting to wander this sometimes barren and sometimes lush landscape of my head. i send them forth. they are my words. my weapon of choice: purple prose
posted by lei at 9:05 AM
love, it's because you make me and you make me to.