You, Romantic One

You, romantic one. You are made of fire, silver and pure and raging and vulnerable to rain. The gods of Love will have their wrath raining on you. They despise you so for being true and defiant and eternally hopeful against all odds. Though you know for a fact that Hope can kill you as easily as a waterfall's brutal kiss, you welcome it, bed with it, waken to find the stark cold mornings with it. Though you know you are doomed to a life of painful questions and the even more painful seeking for the answers, you go on with each awful minute stepping into the hurting little hour of need, and want, to be heard, to be seen and felt, to be loved as truly and deeply as the ways of the Universe could ever allow. But this is all that there is to you--this multifacetedness birthed by Pain and Bliss of being so gloriously different in a way that makes you relate to almost anything that exists in the realm of the human condition. No conditions necessary, you brave the world, even if your courage comes across as cowardice to most of its people, because right from the beginning that's the only thing they deemed you capable of manifesting. For all your beauty, you will be seen as broken. For all your Love you will be considered ungrateful. For all your innocence, you will be sentenced gulity. And beyond any shadow of doubt, yours will be the last and hardest and sweetest of tears. Amen.