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I love to love and to your love receive
I love to give love and have you give back to me.
But the love with which I love, do you truly believe
That this love with which I love forever true will be?

I cannot easily with paint, oil, or chalk pastels
Show the dimensions or sincerity of the love in my heart.
But upon paper, with pen, my hand my soul spills
To, perhaps, show my devotion, if not the whole, than in part.

Fresh fallen snow upon mountainside
As sun’s radiant glow brings new light.
In scenes like so does my love reside
And as the sun does show, it burns rather bright.

The burning in my heart is not an ordinary flame.
This fire requires not any ember base.
It needs not substance, thus one cannot it tame.
It burns because it burns, and forever shall it blaze.

And of course the clichés it makes me believe
For you take a bullet, drink death, I would indeed.
It pains me to say I would leave you to grieve.
Yes, for your sake, for you to save, I would become the deceased.

But that devotion is too easy, to me, it seems.
Death is just a moment and for the dying passes quickly.
But while life in these veins flows, while it teems.
Evermore your devoted I will be and spend e’ery breath to give you love joyously.

Jonathan J. 1-29-2014

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