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As I wandered through the darkened forest of my weary soul,
the days once adorned with light lay forgotten,
their precious hues faded into shadow.
Yet there you stood, steadfast as a towering oak,
your love unwavering, unyielding against time's cruel tide.
It was not love that wavered, nor you who faltered;
it was I, a leaf trembling in the wind of doubt.
From the first moment to this, you have been my constant star,
guiding me through storms and silences,
your brilliance undimmed by my faltering steps.
And yet, my heart bears the weight of sorrow,
not of lost affection, but of misgiven loyalty—
a bond that feels more like friendship,
a duty cloaked in threads of guilt.
Oh, steadfast soul, who loves so purely,
I stand before you as both debtor and penitent,
yearning to match your enduring flame
with a fire of my own making.
Shall I, in this shadowed realm,
find the courage to rise,
to love you as you have always loved me?
For in your constancy,
I glimpse a salvation I may yet earn. 7 replies
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