But Still, Love

If you knew the secret of fire

how it wakes in a spark,

how it grows, ravenous,

devouring forests and mountains,

fields and cities, centuries of stone and story

you might believe yourself prepared.

But still, you would not be spared.

Still, you would not be spared.

If you mastered the craft of quenching,

if you studied the chemistry of flame,

if you learned which water to pour,

which hand to raise,

where to stand, where never to linger

you might think you had earned safety.

But still, the fire would find you.

Still, the fire would find you.

And you!

you who carry the scorched wisdom of heartbreak,

you who swear you have learned its lessons,

you who whisper that you are stronger now

but still, no vow is given.

Still, no promise holds.

For the ash waits, patient.

The dawn reddens, merciless.

And the river, by law of being,

must surrender itself to the sea.

But still, 

still, you fall in love 

with the sea that swallows 

rivers whole.