All along I love you. Not only when the clouds
wear strands of gold and gowns of rose. Not only
beside the waterfall. Not only in the quiet shrine
of starlight and milky way. Also, I love you in the broken
glass, amidst shards of fear, through the sting of blood.
I love you midst the fallen fruit, with tired eyes,
in currents of mud. I love you, not because
I want to. I love you without because. Inside me
you blossom in winters, in fall. I hold you with many,
many arms, with as many arms I let you go.