(this one has been written for two people, one not known to me.. its for those two who have cursed the harshness of nature and yet, appreciated and accepted it.. its for those two people and they will never know)
The passion was ignited,
Two rough outers met,
Saw through the prism of stone,
His universal curse of being alone.
Storms, the flame withstood,
Fireflies died in the name of love,
The flame burned with a vengeance profound,
The sparks raised questions abound.
Incessantly proud was the candle,
For she had nurtured the flame,
The winds and the waters,
Only had excuses to fail.
The outers turned rougher,
As now, they had turned their backs,
No, the flame didn't burn out,
The candle ran out of wax.