Dedicated to the love of my life, we, bound partners by sacred rite of hand fasting;
Jordan André Hronec-De Liso

Oh love, true fire of Promethean lore, Demigod punish-ed, not for the gift of constant warmth, but the mixed blessing of this heavenly malady, blissful, sometimes cold, emotion stolen from above, ancient and old, that gods in human form, were not meant to suffer, beating, worn, we earthbound Beings never warned,

Tis a love of two not so gentle hearts, conflicted, sometimes falling apart, sharing the pain of disappointments, human and sacred, Divine, that which resides in between, intertwined, with that look in your eyes, reflected, there is never any doubt that I am yours, you are mine,

A measure of happy moments under the sun, but the moon often, more moments for loves sake won, of heart to heart, then stuff just falls apart, the feeling of done overtakes, shooting through the tender flesh of a chest, intoxicating blur, from the poison dart, as the sacred one seems an all too human two, for a moment, then not,

We have journeyed as one, broken mending deep, much of the time, dark, stark view, changers we all are, far, as the pocket watch of destiny is wound, there is a pain that overtakes which knows no bounds,

Tai Chi of Agony and Bliss, Love Found,

Fuel for creative drive inspired and deprived, a river of tears, joyful and despairing, cried, why thus, only little pieces in time, in your arms for but a slumber tonight, hoping for moments when once again, two as one, might shine,

Tis a love that only the soul or a fool may find, and it grinds,

Thirsty body and starved soul aches, wracked in agony, as well as happiness, reversed and undressed, is pain, insane,

Confused yet, so are we, am I so lame because the stars and the universe guide me,

Tis what love has in store, for one on longer in need of malady, once found, for a day of infinity the third eye is crowned, and then the quiet of death or loudness of a falling out takes us away from what we once were, as Bast purrs because love’s ending, with all that it is, is sometimes fraught with war,

Those who surf on amorous tides, glide on high, letting not the fear of love abandoned or being parted, rub the sticks together in your mind and let the angels guide you, so that the suffering of love may find you.

The Faery King