Soul

I love you
with the love of the
soul - constant but
silent, intense but
composed.

There is but
little visceral longing, no
emotional capitulation; there
are no tear-jerking mornings
without you, because each morning
carves your picture in my
memory, as I love you with the
love of the soul.

There are no stomach-crunching,
heart-twisting moments when we're
together, but I love you as ever,
like a feather dancing in the
winds of July, alive but unperturbed,
as one would love with the
love of the soul.

The last love I had was
marked by brutal contradictions,
intemperate passions interminably
overwhelming my constitution,
violating my peace.

This love is different, for it
is a love that is at ease with
itself, never troubling me or
anyone. It is a love
of eventual decision, a love
clothed with the clarity of concept,
armed with the force of
abstraction.

And it is a love that is every bit
as powerful as any love born by
passion alone, only that it is a love
that resides in the spirit, a
love that waits for itself
to bloom.

I will wait, because I love you,
soul and all.