Love
Love is a word that all of us say
we throw it around casually
we all seem to think that we know what it is
yet so often we disagree
We talk all the time about making love
but I'm certain that no one knows
how to make it, or where it comes from
or when it's gone, where it goes
I'm sure it's somehow biological
we can examine it scientifically
we can even do the arithmetic
of exponential empathy
consciousness distinguishes me from you
but with love me and you become we
Some lovers cling to it desperately
afraid it will leave them alone
they squeeze it just a little too hard
then before they know it, it's gone
some emulate love with precision and guile
they whisper sweet saccharin nothings, all the while
position themselves to extract by deceit
what they could have given honestly
some feel no love, worse still, some despise it
they taunt it and fear it and hate it and fight it
they strangle love's melody into silence
stuck in their endless cycles of violence
but there are a few who exude love so true
that it shines from their face tangibly
they live it and breath it and sing it out loud
and they give it away for free
love that is honest and patient and kind
love that is knowing and wise
love that transcends our thoughts and our words
deep as the sea , wide as the sky
2 comments:
I've read this now several times. I let your words sink in, mulled them over in light of our conversations wednesday evening. Your words are beautiful. You have a way of extracting the essence of a Truth and weaving a song of written word around it. I believe that you understand a lot more about what love is than you allow yourself to acknowledge openly.
Thursday's sky seemed so much bigger and blue-er than it had the day before.
Some time has passed since you wrote this and I can say that we both understand what loves is a little more having the other to share it with. You make it appear so easy.Nancy
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