Comparisons are hard to come by through Immortal things.
Wind is the exception.
She is a paradox, riddling you with her swift, antagonizing blows.
Antecedently she will caress the soft white hairs, sprouting from the nape of your neck.

My love you are Immortal, you are wind.
Ripping, tearing, shredding through the seams and beams that hold my heart together.
Habitually sewing back what you have destroyed, healing the wounds that you inflicted.

Is it in my Nature to love you, for the paradox that you create?
Perhaps it is the paradox in which we create, together that I am so fond of.
We are two human beings that shouldn’t be yet are.

With the universe going against us we struggle and strive for our paradox
Through love and hate, through judgment and acceptance
We will still remain. Strong, immortal like wind;

Hoping, but knowing, that our love will not be understood.