So I have to pause from my lately stream of poetry to talk about a real issue.

I notice that today people have turned further and further from love. Not only from a spiritual love but constantly from a moral love. Everything is relative these days. "luv ya!" "I love you" "Much Love" "love ya" We all hear and say these things on a daily basis. Do you mean it?

What does it mean to say "I Love You"? Is it unconditional? true? sincere? endless? passionate? sympathetic? giving? yearning? pulsing? everflowing? bold? relentless?

The most powerful word universally has been the object of subjectivity way to much. "Amore, Amakukodani, Armastama, Amor, Liebe, Liefde, Ahava, Sarane, LOVE" It's all the same!

God clearly defines this as the greatest of all virtues. "Among these are faith, hope and love, but the greatest of these is Love".

Whenever I think of the place I am today, the family I have, the girlfriend by my side, the job I have, the degree I am working towards, life, friends, and passions, I can't help but think that I am so blessed beyond what I deserve. I deserve punishment, judgement, ridicule, exile, and humiliation, yet I have the greatest passion and sacrifice that has paid for anything and everything sinful that I ever have done or ever will do. Blood has sunk into the ruined ground of that infamous hill where my father was murdered. Tears have rotted away the wood that once held my dad high above a city of sin. My life is fulfilled with hope, faith, and passion because my father, friend, and savior had a passion for a people that would one day proclaim who He among that world. I know His passion, care, and provisions are unconditional, true, sincere, endless, passionate, sympathetic, giving, yearning, pulsing, everflowing, bold, relentless, and testimonial!

That's Amore'!

One stroke of blue
The sky blooms out in a full array of color
Beauty I see
His brush runs through the oil
The sea, it rages and the ship's in struggle
My tragedy

The hand which paints the sun
Is same that controls the storm
He's my father, my friend, and my master
When I'm on the ship
Tossed about and waiting for the storm to calm
Painted is my Beautiful Disaster.

The line holds a wall
Boundaries unseen before
Willows can only weep
Lame men can no more walk

The color holds an essence
Expressions on her face
Sadness is a virtue
Smiles tear the veil

The scene knows a reason
Time and space combined
Apothecaries close
Denver heats the winter's wrath

The movement plans our journey
A destiny unhindered by circumstance
The road has no stripes
A speed is absent to reality

The value reads your heart
Your passions within exposed
Darkness is your turn
Your life is saturated by empty desire

The painter is a stalker
Your life is an open book
No one knows you better
Canvas has been your page

The day fades, All is still
No flight calls, still I lay awake
The ice breaks, the leaves rustle
Within me cries a pulsing absence

The flocks migrate from here
Their stay is not long
To my heart it is known
This is not my home

A goal is ideal
The blacktop loses purpose
It's used for pity rubbish
I throw mine away

For now anew rises a new place
like none other seen
A color, A line, A reflection
Light to all that is Dark

It is seen now, the end
Answers are known like air in my breath
The day knows my name
Now the night fades just so