Jai's Spreading Happiness And Peace

Some say that love is born of fire, A frantic flame that feeds on breath, To satisfy a wild desire And lead a soul to golden death. I’ve tasted such a burning brand, It seared within my heart and mind; A drought upon a summer land That left a bitter dust behind. But I have known a different cold— Not like the hate that freezes deep, But like the hemlock, dark and old, Where winter crows their vigils keep. For when the fire begins to wane And leaves me heavy with my rue, A dust of snow, like falling rain, Descends to make the spirit new. A sudden brush against the sleeve, A quiet word, a cooling touch; Small graces help the heart believe That passion does not owe us much. For love is neither ice nor flame, But how the white drifts drench the red; It gives the day a gentler name And saves the path that we must tread. -Jairam Kshirasagar