Love is precious. It’s fragile. A tiny vessel, sent from the sand core shore, unarmed and susceptible to attack. Miniature and feeble. Splintered and frail. Ready to fight fruitfully upon the threatening racing waters of the vast vulnerable unknown. One walks their vessel off the safe calm shores in hope, trudging with pants rolled high, tight to the knees, sweat progressing steadily on the brow, through tough wet sand and irritating lurching surf, the winds of fate swirling hair about, all to carry and launch the weighty exposed transport solely to open water.
In a passage to communicate, my darling. In a passage to communicate, my love. A vessel of full occupancy, passengers of hope, bought with a fare of courage, faith, credited with blinded belief, and unconditional love, subscribed mysterious virtue seat strapped tight with fate and ready flight.
Broken shards mean little to those who watch the waters ravage and the waves rage war on the ship. Modest broken wood, battered bare and raw. Scattered throughout the sprays of sea foam heart fall. Those from afar are unaware of the precious passengers who ride. Capsized and drowning. Faith and trust fall overboard. Slip beneath. Memories of years and tears, laughter and love, suffocating the broken voyagers with sea soaked gasps.
Trudge on trust.
The dark water can be deceiving, sweet hope. Don’t give up your fight.
Reach the shore to safe harbors so that you may see the light.
Breath the salt sprayed air.
Catch your breath
The grace from within you and overhead will shine once again.
Warm your bare shoulders
Love is precious.
small and vast
swirling mysteriously and wildly
around you and within you