They say that love is the shining light that guides you down the most treacherous of paths. That love warms you against the frigid winter nights. That it's the supplement of the soul. The heat of the boiling soup for dinner. The gentle hug of reassurance. The Sun that sustains the Earth.

But love burns. It glares at you with piercing eyes, gnawing away at your bones, searing every cell as skin melts away and muscle contracts into a burnt crisp. It is the fire that engulfs your lungs as you gasp for one more slice of air, only to be met by evaporating blood and despair. The hopes of escaping, as you lose control of your arms, your legs, your mind.

But then again, why would you get away from love?

The dwellers of the night, the ones who watch in the distance, are the ones seared in pain in the end. This fierce Sun is poison to us, a plethora of harsh radiation pouring onto our skins, into our eyes. To counter the anguish of love with the anguish of sorrow, to live with the new pain of loneliness that we have put up to the point of it being norm,

Is a painful necessity to survive.

But if only light can seep into our realm, gently to sooth us from the gloom of the dark. If only someone can shine the way to us, to give the right dose,

To free us from our shackles that have bounded us to the cold floor, and teach us not the meaning of shadows, but the meaning of the truth and perfectness.

If what can burn also heal, what will it be then?