By: Glenn Marchand Jr.~

What’s the path, my love?—for ours is the calligraphy of
Spirit. Thus, through love we taste the essence of
Immortality. But tears have become a puddle. The thicket
Is insufferable. And joy has never felt so effulgent. It’s
The paradox of love—the texture of confusion. My love,
The garden is filled with dreams, and we have walked the
Axis of visions, edging the precipice of despair. But your
Smile, as radiant as sunbeams, permeating the universe.
Our contradiction is a cosmic fable, where lovers both fall
And rise simultaneously. It digs into the psyche, a godly
Seesaw, the pendulum of mystery. And it infuses the soul
With the inexplicable. Upon a whetstone passions are
Exhausted. It’s the majesty of birth, royalty, and life. It’s
Beyond measure, churning the stomach unto explosion.

© Glenn Marchand Jr.. All rights reserved