Why, when I see your picture does It cause such great JOY and at the same time a hurt in the heart? The joy is so profound that It has made men wage war just gain a smile. The pain and hurt, at the same time, has made man so meloncoly that the thought of life is of no concequence and great deeds have been wroght for that same smile.
I am no great writer nor a poet. But I can almost feel what the great warrior poets might have felt. The joy of battle in a great cause, to protect your home, your family, your love... Or to sit in the quiet of night, surrounded by hundreds but totally alone with thoughts of the love you'd die for, but only wanting to live for.
I don't believe I was born in the wrong age, a thousand years too late... Maybe a thousand too soon. I may be one of those souls who yearn for adventure, to seek out new things, to boldly go forth into the unknown, to capture knowledge, to conquer fear. All of this for one who could care less for the feats, who just would take that man for himself. Of course, no man ever sees what he needs to do until it is too late. But at just 1 word he would do it again and again, for that smile, for the kerchief from her hand, for the look in her eye that he never understands is love.
I am no great man. I am no warrior. I am no poet or writer of prose. I am a man. I love, I hurt...I see your picture, hear your voice and I would destroy worlds at your word