The Feeling of Love

The feeling of love is something passing
And mine is so impure
And yet
Like a rock that keeps on floating
Somehow my heart
Keeps on reaching for the air

I am not afraid
Of some mindless trepidation, but
A genuine concern:
I’ve given up so many times
So many times, my metal’s bent
My blade’s gone dull
Am I rusting?
What will purify my soul?
I want so much
But can I give?

What if my mind begins to wander?
What if feelings fade?
What if night supercedes the day?
Can I count on mere commitment
To keep me in the way?

Author: KB French

Formerly many things, including theology student, mime, jr. high Latin teacher, and Army logistics officer. Currently in the National Guard, and employed as a civilian... somewhere

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