The Quest.

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A Quest.

My body grows weak as my mind does tire searching for the phrases that will never expire,

Explaining love and what it means for those who live within its dreams.

A lifetime spent in wasteful youth, never able to tell lies from truth,

Was not a way of finding that peace. How can I now find the release?

The words escape my grasp sometimes, failing me and emptying my lines,

But never will I cease my quest, until I’m finally laid to rest.

 

I’ll write them here, as they come to me. I’ll leave it to you, to see if you agree.

 

Love sees faults but pushes them aside

Never belittling and never them to deride.

Love never shows contempt for the things you may do.

It stays there forever, simply loving you.

Love is to accept that which cannot be changed.

Caring about each aspect without being constrained.

Loves never asks for a thing beyond your reach.

Knowing that you’d give, before being beseeched.

Love offers peace but can cause a war.

It can soothe a wound but can open a sore.

Love is an emotion that encompasses so very much,

Yet can be expressed by a simple, solitary touch.

Love can be a tie. It can be a release.

It can mean so much beyond belief.

 

To summarise, as I think I must. You either believe in love, or you have no trust.

Anything But Hackneyed…Amazon.com

Anything But Hackneyed…Amazon.co.uk

 

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About Danny Kemp

I was at work one sunny November day in 2006, stopped at a red traffic light when a van, driven incompetently, smashed into me. I was taken to St Thomas' Hospital and kept in for a while, but it was not only the physical injuries that I suffered from; it was also mental ones. I had lost confidence in myself let alone those around me. The experts said that I had post-traumatic stress disorder, which I thought only the military or emergency personnel suffered from. On good days, I attempted to go to work, sometimes I even made it through Blackwell Tunnel only to hear, or see, something that made me jump out of my skin and that's when the anxiety attacks would start. I told my wife that I was okay and going regularly, but I wasn't. I could not cope with life and thought about ending it. Somehow or other with the help of my wife and medical professionals, I managed to survive and ever so slowly rebuild my self-esteem. It took almost four years to fully recover, but it was during those dark depressive days that I began to write. My very first story, Look Both Ways, Then Look Behind, found a literary agent but not a publisher. He told me that I had a talent, raw, but nevertheless, it was there. His advice was to write another story and that I'm delighted to say, I did. The success of that debut novel, The Desolate Garden, was down to sheer hard work, luck, and of course, meeting a film producer.
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