Half way
The smoothness of our love
is like a flower that will not wither
but just goes on flowering again
renewing constantly the beauty
and exploding into newborn blossoms
at every risk of fading or of tiring.
That is the ordinary course of love
when it is natural and ripe,
when it has reached a state of harmony
which makes it unassailable and incorruptible,
a state which we have reached after some years
of trial horrors without end,
and it actually feels like coming home.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
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Written on 2010-08-31 at 07:11
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