The Storm and the Kiss
I lit a candle, small and weak,
The storm just laughed: “That’s not what you seek.”
It blew it out with a wicked grin,
“Come closer, fool, the game begins.”
My lust stood tall with hungry eyes,
Promising flesh, forgetting skies.
It whispered hot, “Forget His name,
There’s sweeter fire, there’s easier flame.”
But pain arrived, a faithful thief,
It robbed my rest, it tore belief.
Still, in the wound, a voice was near,
“Through broken bones, My Light appears.”
Suffering dressed in bridal white,
Danced with me deep into the night.
A kiss of salt, a whip of flame,
Yet every lash still cried Your name.
And humor came, drunk clown of fate,
He tripped me hard at heaven’s gate.
I cursed, I laughed, the angels cheered,
The demons bowed, the storm grew weird.
Creator, You sly comedian, You,
You wound with left, then heal with blue.
You tempt, You trick, You strike, You shove,
Yet all is stitched with secret love.
For though I fall, I still adore,
The lips that wound, the hands that war.
The thunder breaks, the lightning burns,
But in its eye—Your mercy turns.
So storm me, bind me, mock my cry,
I’ll love You still until I die.
Through lust and laughter, pain and shame,
My soul is Yours, through fire, through flame.
And when I drown, or rise above,
I’ll storm with You, my storm of love.
