
The rhythm of blues, could never sway love’s crimson ways. If violet hues are of blue, then rose petals would say of a heart true, I love you. If a closed off heart perceives, love is blind, then how of mine? A heart wide open to know, if love can’t truly see, why giddily are so many, willing to then blindly fall… into love? Must be its sway. If, tainted glass is only of a reduction in perspective, then, why are many hearts amazed? How a reflective perception could be a shift in one’s mood, to become a painted expression of love’s subtle nuances. Must be of its way. If light shining, will always overwhelm darkness, leaving the darkness no way to overcome it? Then therefore, every heart’s innermost glow, likened to an incandescent lighthouse. Love’s solace of hope, beaming in the most darkened of moments. Must be to sway. They say, silent rivers run deep, but, this my heart has come to concede. Deep places won’t reveal itself, if one’s soul couldn’t fathom. Depth is a place of being, within a state of enlightenment. Swayed, knowing must be love the way!
WCR










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