* Musing * written by Elaina Oct 2021
Love
has its own narrative.
A stronghold tale
with penetrating eyes;
a rival in disguise.
Flint against steel,
it strikes.
Then collapses
like an avalanche;
stone against bones.
Palms pressed.
Head bowed.
Prayers of dissolution
seek refuge,
from twists of fate
and open wounds.
Even so…
the heart holds steady,
an anchor of
sunken treasures.
Swaying with every current,
alive with each passing tide.
Caught,
in a web of tattered nets.
Hooked on threads of resistance.
I wonder, will I ever return?
Return from the stolen dream
that dislodged and separated me.