The chance of happiness equals
the risk of pain.
Whenever you love, it's too good to be true.
Even so, it's truer than you believe,
Nor will you know till it vanishes again.
Time is a sea which opens where you cleave
Yet roils over what you leave behind.
For now, my love sings in the
Or hisses against rocks like the sea,
Unraveling your life when you pause to grieve,
Returning with the sunlight, with the rain.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon