Today I give you love (it matters not what you give me).

There are cycles of birth and rebirth. 

Sometimes our hands reach out in love and receive nothing but cold air in return. 

All is well. 

This existence is fickle and emotional. 

The waves of our human existence can wash back onto lands of past pain unexpectedly. 

My finger tips extended out to meet softness, to meet you in the very center of your heart. 

I was not embarrassed. 

I did not care what others would say, do, or think. 

All I wanted was to meet you there, in that iridescent blue jungle of seashells, sand and iguanas. 

I wanted to pull the stardust hanging down from the mango trees and give you succulent fruit to eat. 

You were so beautiful, and you said you knew it. 

Behind your eyes, your spirit trembled. 

You were powerful and forthright, and yet --

your declarations of self-adornment were fragile; your faith easily broken. 

Love is a salve the can heal all nervousness,

 no matter how ancient or intangible the wound. 

 Love is medicinal. Sometimes the salve is bitter, 

other times, it tastes as deep and sweet as cinnamon.

I wanted to nurture you, kiss and swirl confidence into the supple parts of your skin. 

I cannot help it, I am a child of Yemaya. 

I like the smell of the ocean and the romance that the water holds.