Beautiful Fear

A hand with blue flames and a hand with red flames hold index fingers.

I was caught in the clutches
of the winds of winter
waiting near the ocean’s edge
for just a touch of warmth.
When out of the blue,
not a dark ocean blue
or a bright sky blue,
but a faint shade close to white
came a whisper of warmth.
I listened to the voice
and met the eyes of green
that held songs and stories
that I was lucky enough to hear.
The warm comfort captured me
although I did not realize it
until I took a step outside
into the lonely cold.
The warmth of love’s embrace
had been keeping me safe
before my very eyes of blue,
and I became green with envy
of myself and the hands that I held
as if it were only a dream.
Love is a warm embrace,
but as soon as you envision it gone
the thought of losing it
is a cold winter wind out of place
during the reign of springtime.
It is a beautiful sort of fear, I think,
to find such comfort in someone’s warmth
that the mere thought of losing them
makes your blood run cold.
She reminds me, however,
that it is a brave and worthwhile endeavor
to gather the wood and strike the flame
and embrace the warmth of love
despite the icy sting brought on by
the fear of cold loneliness
and the fear that the fire will go out.
That is only a fear, not a truth,
for the fire is still brightly burning,
so you should live and love in the moment
and trust in the process and
let it burn.
She is my beautiful fear
and in the flames of our love
we are warm, we are safe, we are one.

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