The Paradox of Love

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 In love’s paradox, our souls entwine,

A dance of fire and icy line,

Born from contradiction’s embrace,

A trembling vessel in fragile grace.  


Joy’s flame, ruin’s ash, intertwined,

A noble sickness, so divine,

A fever that no cure can tame,

Burning body, radiant flame.  


With you, I breathe, yet suffocate,

Without you, I fade, disintegrate,

Your presence, both balm and blade,

A silent salvation, a noise unmade.  


Love’s comfort and its cruel wound,

A boundless closeness, a distance loomed,

A fire that warms, a fire that devours,

A paradox in endless hours.  


Some loves redeem, others condemn,

A force to shape or break again,

Within its pain, our spirits soar,

Seeking meaning forevermore.  


Illusion’s mask, love’s true face,

Bloodless shadows, a hollow space,

Between your touch and your absence’ void,

My heart in poems is employed.  


Love’s end is form, not core,

What kills can breathe once more,

A cycle spun in endless strife,

A dance of life and death in love’s bright knife.  


So let me live in this sacred, fierce strife,

In love’s beautiful, paradoxical life,

Where pain and joy are threads that weave,

The soul’s deep song, the heart’s reprieve.  


For in this contradiction, I find my truth,

A fragile, fierce, unending proof—

That love, in all its burning, breaking,

Is the very breath of our awakening.

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