Love Poem 6

I have lived in a tomb.

I was born in a graveyard.

My heart rests in an urn.

While there are many who would trade so much

for such certainty,

being surrounding since conception by the dead

breeds cold comfort in an age of

life and living

and, in a world where

the light can burn away the dark,

to have been

conceived under the lovers’ moon,

bathed in lovers’ light,

and reared on lovers’ nectar

puts life and love in the

constant

dance of wax and wane,

crescent and gibbous,

new and full

with the sun lurking until its rays

obliterate

delicate moonlight realities and crystalline entities

valiantly striving to

face the world and all it pushes forward.

To know,

some survive these killing rays and

it will be okay.

What will come, will come

and

you won’t have to face it all alone.