Love as he saw it

In youth, he saw love  

as a shining peak,  

a treasure waiting   

at the top of a steep hill,  

if only he could climb.  

He thought it a prize,  

a clear light to chase,  

something pure and sweet  

offered only to the lucky,  

hidden in the corners  

of longing dreams.  

 

But as seasons changed,   

he grew wiser,  

stepping back, revealing  

love as a cloudy sky,  

perhaps a game of chance,  

where faith took flight,  

as he learned to smirk  

at the tales of hearts,  

the false woods  

where every promise feels  

like a ghost of youth.  

 

Now, in the dance of middle age,  

he uncovers truth,  

love emerging not as a throne,  

not merely a spark,  

but as a canvas,  

painted carefully,  

each brushstroke a moment  

done by will, by choice,  

by a heart that seeks,  

each day captured 

in renewed hues,  

no longer the fairy tale,  

but a shared story,   

scraped together tenderly,  

sometimes rough,   

sometimes soft. 

 

In love’s journey, he finds,  

no destination to cling to,  

only shared steps in unity  

and perhaps a quiet gaze,  

an understanding of the dance,  

and the stories written,  

in warmth and in the chill,  

learning always, forgetting never,  

that love, indeed, is an odyssey,  

an act of becoming,  

molded  

by the will of the heart.