༺Masterpiece༻

XII :: Candlelight

"A feathery breeze ruffles long hair,
silver moon on order glows bright.
We danced in flickering candlelight,
watching fireflies add yellow light.

Eyes speaking an age-old message
but no words are said aloud at all.
You pulled me closer while life slows
like a shooting star, we both fall.

Magnets tug lips each to the other,
they brushed for an infinite moment
sparks flew, outglowing shiny stars
pulling away the flames not yet spent."

⊱ ───ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ─── ⊰

There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket - safe, dark, motionless, airless - it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.

"Mon Amour, what does that mean?" The young maiden, not a day over 15, looked up into the master's eyes as he laughed. Pastor Heejun Kim had sat all the children of the orphanage in the large backyard. It was his son, Seokjin Kim, who had taught the kids the term Mon Amour. Seokjin had returned from Italy, after studying civil engineering, to help his father take care of the orphanage while also following his passion for folklore and music.

"Ma, that means my love. Exactly what you are." Seokjin was almost 20 years older than the oldest kids in the orphanage and the older kids often called him as their bestfriend. It was initially Seokjin's softness towards the dying children, whom their parents left, that motivated his father to build an orphanage.

"My love. Mon Amour."

"That's a pretty word, isn't it?"

"That surely is." Another younger boy replied from the back.

Seokjin had terms of endearment for every single orphan that wasn't adopted and grew up under him and his father. Some of them joked that he forgot everyone's names and so, would refer them with adorable nicknames. She, on the other hand, knew that Jin called them with nicknames to make them all feel at home.

...

"Cheon Seok-ah! I have a new word for you!"

"Eh? New word? What?" The sixteen years old lad tilled the vast field with the 230kg plough on his shoulders as she reached him with her new discovery.

"Mon Amour."

"Mhm. What does that mean?" He breathed heavily with the oversized plough grasped in his clench. Just a little more, he promised himself, as he smiled at his love.

"It means my love, in Italian. Hyung taught us. Why didn't you come to the seating?" She put her butter hands on the plough, helping Cheon Seok complete the last round of tilling.

Cheon Seok felt his sweaty back get energized as he walked towards the far edge. The elders predicted that it might begin to rain later that day and he had to till the black soil of their field. Black soil, also called regur soil, is rich in the nutrients required to produce the Daeji type of potatoes, usually sown sometime between June and August. The only problem with black soil was that it becomes extremely sticky and hard to till once it's wet.