At first always full of smoke and mirrors,
It burns, but who knows where is the fire?
Heart confused; full of soft hope and jitters
Projects muse on the face of an other.
Sound of broken glass, shattering vision!
For survival of self and love of thee,
In fearful hope we break the illusion.
Flames of passion cauterise injury.
Blooded thorns scattered over warm ashes.
It’s true, our garden was full of dead wood,
It takes love and a blade to grow roses.
We slashed each other awake as we should.
Eyes open, fixed on the other in awe,
We rise anew, and now true love can grow.
© Didier Beaugrand