Ireland's beauty beseeches me, calls me in and carries me throughout the world, high above its winds. I listen to its Celtic breeze, it whispers softly then lures me deep. I trestle through its forests, bountiful and lush, only to realize that I should have been in more of a rush. I find it's castles so alive with history, that mysteriously I hear life within their walls. At night, the winds turn warm and fill me with a rush of blood. It rolls me down its hills in the day, bouncing me seductively with each tumble, I fall deeper in love. It protects me at night in its endless caves, the ones in which I could stay all day. I embrace its sensational prowess, and let it unleash its majestic passion unto me and into me as it washes over me. I scream aloud in Gaelic, as I burst with pride and pleasure.
Time stood still for nary a soul, it dragged its feet, aching and old. Blistering heat that made us melt, we were once softer than silk felt. Hallowed hearts wind whistled through, covered in bruises, black and blue. Hardly broken, but maybe bent, running on empty and love spent. There comes a day in all our lives, when our failures cut deep as knives. But you shall remain a triumph, you stayed with me, like a science. Words were whispered, curses, we'd shout, until the blood drained from our mouths. Yesterday—softer than silk felt; seems like all we do these days is yell.
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