Can love be rekindled
though Cupid’s last arrow spent?
Can a fire be re-lit
as the wind blows its discontent?
Can the passion be found
though dead on the ground
and life be breathed into dry bones?
Is there hope for the hope-less?
Is there love for the love-less?
Devoid of all but desire,
one must dare to conquer
the mountain of impossibility
that stands before you each day.
The arrow broken
the wind at force
the bones, yet, begin to rattle;
the breath of life in you again
it rises up;
you rise up.
Find your passion,
live your life,