It comes unbiddened.
A stone-turned river
pouring,
staggering out.
It’s my heart served
but not on a platter.
But instead a plain-cloth table
to serve one and all.
A pathway ancient yet stable
walked by both Roman and Gaul.
It does not divide,
degrade or diminish.
It doesn’t detract or demand
to become distinguished.
There are signs of a love
that requires little return
leaving hints in honest expressions
of our primal intentions.
A series of flickering eyes;
a chorus of silent sighs;
fingers that fidget
with skin till it’s flush.
It’s a stream of dopamine rush.
Love is that which relaxes our nerves
to see the world with vivid adverbs
and opens our thawing hearts
to share a wound that still smarts.
It invites divine change
and readies our brains
for inevitable ends
of intangible strands
of lives we’ve attempted
with cards we were handed.
The truest of true
sees right on through
the plans and our lies
made to cleverly disguise
our unhealed bruises and sores.
Revealing addictions to which we still whore
our precious, yet anxious remaining time,
till we convince ourselves that we’re just fine.
But its true love that rewrites that old refrain
to a tune up to now we couldn’t retain.
It’s the same topic on repeat,
the answer always mutable, not concrete –
it’s just simply to love one another
without exception. Did I stutter?
That love that arises is always new,
somewhat familiar yet out of the blue.
This is your pattern, your relational impact,
trying to fix the story from a previous contact.
Love is a fluid, filling your container.
Who will you choose to be your sustainer?