"Some say the world will end in fire.
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if I had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice."
Robert Frost - Fire and Ice
My love is the essence of eternal winter, and my soul burns contentedly in flames.
Tell me, which is more beautiful – Fire or Ice? People often rejoice in the brightness and warmth of fire, but the sprouting flames are still untouchable. The glimmering radiance of ice is a sad kind of beauty, one that frequently passes by unnoticed. Both are destined to loneliness. So, whose sadness is more beautiful, The Lord of Flames or The Queen of Ice?
Shiva is the embodiment of divinity, her beauty celestial. Icicles gently blanket her skin, sparking like jeweled daggers. No flame could compare to her greatness. Throughout my entire existence, I had never known that ice could be quite so alluring and diverse; her long tresses like the deepest sea, her skin aquamarine shadows, her eyes a glint of turquoise when struck by the sun's light. Her frost is as exquisite as it is fierce. It is nearly indomitable, only melting faintly underneath the presence of my generous warmth. Likewise, my embers fail to grow cold and brittle near her chilly ambience. The heat in my soul burns brightly with endless passion. The incessant nature of my heart is surely more than she could ever bear. Yet, without her, the fire would burn out - I would be the dust of cinders, my ashes free to flow with the breeze. Her snow has rekindled me. And without my compassion, my empress would be eternally hardened in an arctic callousness. With my flame, her heart defrosts.
"Your affection is a falling star that I have chased across the night sky. You alone are my love, my reason for existence. There is nothing I wouldn't sacrifice to hold you in my arms."
"How I yearn to hold your hand." She whispered, her voice sweet and sorrowful. "But you are fire and I am ice, and we will never embrace. We will never be."
My hand rested on her crystalline shoulder, setting it ablaze. The spark of fire sent showers of red down her slender frame, orange and yellow flickering across her body. A violent chill shivered my entire being, the blizzard seeping through in an attempt to numb me. Taking her hand in mine, the inferno in my heart melted the ice running through her veins and ignited her soul. Plumes of frenzied smoke flitted, sparks leaped, glowing embers twirled, twinkling diamonds melted. We both watched, hypnotized by the illuminating dance of fire and ice.
Our desire for one another is positively destructive. Yet, our passion is undeniable. This feeling we share could bring about the end of the world and crumble anything in its path. Frost burns, there is no denying it. But to love is to burn, to be set on fire. No threatening winter can be too cold when you have love.
Ice is my light. Sun of all my glorious mornings. Fire of all my solemn nights.
With her hand in mine, the flames of our love were set ablaze, refusing to be contained – never to crumble into mere ashes. The fieriness grew ravenous, devouring her frost. Her hands began to crack within my embrace. Forcing myself to let go, the heartache throbbed like an insatiable fire that had burnt everything, leaving us listless and empty.
The ice was free to once again encase her heart.
We cannot exist without each other. We cannot exist without destroying each other.
Such is the power of love, leaving its victims hopeful that it can alter the course of fate.