A Stark Fall Morning

Love is pure, and deep
like a sharp inhale of cold air:
the pain of love is the brief excruciation
of that cold air parting the lungs
and imparting purity through the body
on its journey and its message.

The message of truth is love,
when spoken in due respect
and bittersweet brevity:
indeed, there is no one to speak
many words, or act, or do in insincerity
when the air is cleared
of all details hashed or ambiguities loosened.

Truth is like that first inhalation of cold air
on the morning following a hard freeze,
temporarily stunning and chilling
all passerby, on a stark Fall morning.
But it is love which keeps the heart
from freezing over, and indeed,
stoking the fire within.