Nothing.

Poem I wrote a year ago for a shapeless, formless person that i still love

Your hair is like the sunshine,

My hair is more like the night.

Your eyes hold a universe beneath them,

But mine can hardly contain the world.

Your smile reminds me of the idyllic warmth of spring,

While Mine only reminds me of the blistering cold of winter.

Your voice is as soft as an angel’s,

My voice is as rough as a demon’s.

Your hands are delicate, soft, and pure,

My hands are tough, calloused, and bruised.

But in spite of all this, I ask You,

What would the victorious rays of sunshine be without the turmoil of nightfall?

What would the universe be without the worlds contained within it?

What would the purity of angels be worth, without the impurity of demons?

What majestic hope would Spring provide, if not for the crushing despair of Winter?

What would My tough, calloused, bruised hand mean to me,

If Your delicate, soft, pure hand had not touched it?

Nothing.

This is why I am prepared to brave the night to reach that ray of sunshine.

Why I am willing to venture beyond my own world, and discover a new universe.

Why I am determined to repent for my sins, so this sorrowful demon can become an angel.

Why I am ready for the cold cruelty of Winter to pass once and for all,

With Your perfect hands in My imperfect hands,

And watch together as we usher in an age of Spring that will last forever.

Because now I know that as long as I can keep My hand in Yours,

As long as I can stare into Your eyes,

Brush my hand through your hair, and watch you smile, then maybe

My life might mean something after all.