Love is a deadly game. Twisting and tugging at our heartsrtings, pulling us this way and that. casting away common sense and replacing it with yearning and dizzy cliche. creating a void of misunderstanding. Truth in this I bestow my gift, present to the world comes a realization that " with an extrordinary gift, comes an unordinary life." For in these words the heart will spill all it's love and soul that it shall pour into the music of words. Like the trembling fingers covering the ivory keys; black and white. A joy so fierce swell's in my soul and sweeps me off my feet. causing an enormous tremble, rapidly shaking the body. A heart rapidly beating to the down rythem of the song my fingers create. Never a joy has the soul touched like that of words and music. This, is want We want from love. Not that of scedule, going through the motions. But, of an enormous joy that swell's the body like that of my fingers flying across the keys of blindingly white ivory, hitting sharps and flats. Once or twice do we recall such a spirit awakening in the soul; that of love i mean. once with a knight perhaps, and another of a stranger. both still burn deep in the crevasis of the soul. if a heart is truly happy; all its melencoly nonsense is merely confusion. Both know parts of it , it never knew. So, perhaps we need love for the discovery of our hearts. opening it to a new voice and new words that i now speak to you in. A rythem of comfort overwelms me as i write in the sentences i do. a mysatery yet am i still. The stranger uncovered A voice, deep from within, to a point where i only speak in ryhmes; that are my thoughts. A wish to love with joy again. While the stranger swept away with the voice, the knight continues to charm. This way and that They dance, words spiraling throught their bonded hearts. Can the knight feel a dying heart? uncovering A heart did he, teaching us to love fiercly. With a power and deep desire, does that of lust consume. Not all of it does it empower now, but that of determination to please. Who does't thou make the heart throb? Continue we do to reach O'er the barrier we know in the depths of our core. We wish to live under joy, with brighted color of green and purple. For the world is grey and tasteless. i recall a time when color splashed over the canvass i once called a life. But the strokes of my brush grew restless and color's i confused. red slowly wilted away to a pasty grey, and the winter grey that was once my eyes died. once, did they sparkle with stars in the daytime, now to be clouded with grey saddness. will we ever live to see the morning? can we retrieve what we have lost when it loves so far away? Truth be told im in morning for the loss of them even when their here. "I will live in this poor rhyme" claims our hearts, forever and always till our fingers create a song of hope and joy once again. One day...One day.