Our Path Full of Whispers, part 2

(continued) Sonnet for Richard and Elizabeth Twice Wed, Never Tamed In Hollywood, where gods wear mortal skin, Their laughter roared and battles lit the screen. Twice wed, twice razed, they let each storm begin, And kissed with venom sweet and love obscene. He drank her name, she drank to match his fire, Their kisses sparked and turned to bitter ash. They loved in mirrors, lost in one desire— To outshine love, then watch the chandeliers crash. No play could hold them; no script could contain The storm that fed their rise and broke their bed. Yet still, they spoke in fondness of their pain, Their love a ghost not buried but well-fed. Some fires return, though drowned in time’s cruel tide: Love flares again, though twice it may have died. Final Sonnet: The Soft Embrace A Reflection on Love’s Truest Form Love is no chain, though close its tendrils weave; It grows not bold when clutched with grasping hand. The truest vow is quiet to believe, And walk in step, not drag nor harsh command. It is the glance that asks but does not bind, The steady touch that dares not steal the flame, It leaves no scars, no lords, no cage behind, But whispers trust, and calls the soul by name. Let passion burn, yet tempered by the heart, Which knows its worth without the need to own. For love, when pure, is not a sculpted art, But two lives grown where grace and will are sown. So walk in love, and never seek to prove— For love endures when freed, and never moved.