When I was 17, a woman suddenly passed away A kind soul that was taken for no apparent reason by an unforgiving God
On a quiet Wednesday morning. On the day of her funeral, I sat next to a man who spent the last 50 years of his life with her
A man whose blood is running through my veins. He told me that he had to keep his eyes closed Because else he'd see her in front of every door
and behind every window. He said "We were One" and asked me what kind of sadistic Divinity would destroy the purest love between men
And I couldn't do anything but hold the fragile, shaking body of a war veteran that never showed fear or grief during the most desperate times. On that day I started to believe in something
Something churches and priests never showed me. Because on a funeral I was told the story of a love that consumes and burn you A love that's worth living even when you know you'll lose it
Extraordinarily breathtaking. That day I learned to run away from average love And to wait for a love Like the one my grandparents shared.