sometimes, one is required to be a warrior for so long, that you have trouble putting down your sword.
—
The year Love almost died inside me,
it was a year fraught with trial and tribulation,
elations of successes waylaid by new responsibilities;
and these new responsibilities,
they almost took the joy away.The year Love almost died inside me,
it almost died in all it’s forms;
Love for my fellow brother,
my fellow sister,
relations both amorous and familial,
as all the joys that were supposed to be inside me were almost detained.

The pain inside me almost surmounted all my senses,
as I lost touch with the capacity to feel Love in it’s greatest fulfillment;
I touched the face of the divine in dreams,
but alas,
this was barely enough to keep my sense of Love sane.

I learnt,
however,
that the pain,
it had a purpose,
had served to purify me of past regrets,
had served to teach me to move forward,
ever onward,
to greater horizons,
and the very scope of those horizons,
they are redefined now,
and though I know that journey will be difficult,
I would rather undertake THAT journey,
to experience the pain of growth,
rather than regret,
and the capacity to love,
it grows inside myself,
especially the capacity to love myself,
and I know,
that in this year,
or any year from this point on,
I could not kill The Love inside myself,
in order to hide from pain;
I could not kill The Love inside myself,
not even if I tried…
—
[Copyright © 2014 Robby Baby Dark Poet of Amour aka Robert Matejko]