Love
Some say she is fire,
Others heat.
Some think that she can not perceive warmth
In view that she is the spark of passion- the flame.
They say that her sea of embers prove their point
But if so,
Where's the passion?
If you’ve never felt anything but heat,
Was she ever there?
I say she is ice,
Marbled, still ice,
For movement would create heat,
But only she can cause the fever.
When you find your soul
She begins to ignite.
Her flame becomes irrevocable, she mirrors you,
Growing as you become whole.
Now as she has become one with you,
She keeps you warm.
Any more when you step in the frigid winter
The cold no longer incapacitates,
Rather remind you of what is keeping you warm.
She began as ice,
Falling into heat.
Just as you once fell,
Moving with you all the way down.
Gravitating into each other.
Just as you were empty,
She was ice.
Now you are complete,
And she is on fire.
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