What you tell me about in the nights. That is not love. That is only passion and lust. When you love you wish to do things for. You wish to sacrifice for. You wish to serve.
Let’s face it: I’m scared, scared and frozen. First, I guess I’m afraid for myself…the old primitive urge for survival. It’s getting so I live every moment with terrible intensity. It all flowed over me with a screaming ache of pain… remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I’ve taken for granted. When you feel that this may be good-bye, the last time, it hits you harder.
A great fire burns within me, but no one stops to warm themselves at it, and passers-by only see a wisp of smoke.