The corridors of my mind flutter like flowers in the wind, ripping them from the ground, sending the petals floating through the red sky, on fire from the thousand lives lost in her beauty alone. Fate is not what is waiting for us around the corner but rather our own mind, endlessly wandering the empty streets of our soul looking for that one single flower growing through the cement waiting to be plucked gently and whisked away to be placed a jar on a shelf
This is the endless mind. The fruitful soul. The love a girl has for her boy and the adventures they find themselves on. With out the other they are just two flowers ripped from the earth to be cast upon the dirt without thought
Faith is not like fruit, it doesn't grow on trees, its nurtured and tendered. The same way our love has been raised. Slowly suffering the silent storms and bending but not breaking. When the leaves fall off, we know in spring they will grow back.
The backbone of our love is strong, held firm by thick roots that travel deep. There is always a beautiful sunset when you are with me.
