(Dante & Beatrice, John William Waterhouse, 1915)



We know from a glance

Our eyes light up

A flash of memory passes

The feeling that has no physicality

But for that which stirs something inside

A knowing…

One cannot explain this, nor reason

 It is there, unspoken

You are eternal to me

The light of my being

The beacon to the heavens

And there is no way to shield myself from love


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