By Bud Koenemund
You are: my bravery, and greatest fear;
The thief of my voice, e'en as I sing these
Little songs in praise; the cause of each tear,
And ev'ry smile which follows; the keys
To free devotion, as well as its jail;
At once condemnation and redemption;
The void of despair into which I wail;
A muse of fire; Heaven of invention;
Each word my weak fingers manage to scratch
On paper; both sanity and madness;
My heart's desire, and soul's perfect match;
Fantasy, and nightmare; joy, and sadness;
My strength, and
weakness; the queen to a king.
In truth, to me, Love, you are everything.