True Lust

Growing up it never rained when I commanded it to. It never shed a streak of sunlight from in between the clouds when I pleaded. The birds never feared my shouts, nor did they flee my stampede. I would never gain a crowd as I sang at the top of my lungs, nobody would shed a tear over my words. The trees never swayed along with me in the wind and the heavens never quivered at my stare. But as you notice all of these verbs carry a past tense. A tense from a time when I was alone and insecure. For how can you fear a man in armor who cannot wield a sword? She has become my armor, my strength, my courage, my light and my darkness. She’s become the sternness behind my commandments. She is the promise behind my plead. Animals minuscule and even those more extravagant than the mind can fabricate bow at my presence; she is my essence. She is all the attention I need, even at the slightest whisper that might slip my tongue. She is the only one who's emotions I would like to evoke, who's opinion matters over all others. The feeling of her shoulders moving to the rhythm of mine in the stillness of a windless room alone make the gods tense, for our connection, our chemistry is that of cosmic strength, is that of fear inducing power in the eyes of the god of scorching fires. She is much more than what was once missing, she is everything that I thought I once was looking for, everything I thought I had found in others, everything I might need to look for tomorrow. One can not fear a man who does not wield a sword, but a kingdom will fall to its knees at the sight of a man wielding true love.