Man of strength, you know your power
so you wield your blade gently
upon my delicate lace.
Flesh, born out of feeling.
Heavy mass of weighty focus
Tall grace like pine,
with fists scarred and pained by battle
my small soul you lift above
in reverence and respect.
I, bubble and seafoam
labor steady, secretly strong.
You, my castle fortress home,
I touch and shape with feather breeze of power
and light with ancient magic
betrothed to me by dark days and rain.
We have created what is ours.
What is ours, is ours
to love wildly,
protect fiercely,
nourish tenderly,
test productively,
and enjoy immensely.
Today we are together.
Tomorrow, even closer.
You and I are tethered,
not to time and space.
We transcend
logos and pathos alike.
Photo: A black and white portrait of me having petit gouter in Paris, France.

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