Of Love


Love is not something
Between a man and a woman
But the greater act
Of feeing alive
Of giving back to creation

All it has given to you
Do you ever admit the gift?
Love is not, the
Securing of a mate
Or the wonder of breeding

It is also to improve
The town where you live
The humanity of your people
And to protect those who cannot
Defend themselves, the nature

And the world which has
Given so much to our species
Love is not something
To hoard, dramatize, victimize oneself with
But the place where energy

Is best shared, where hope is
Best revealed, and where the
Eyes of morning can renew
Their tutelage that life is good

And love is that pure revelation
Of this Earth’s goodness
Whatever that may be
Love has nothing to do with sex
Or the illusion of security.

7 thoughts on “Of Love

  1. nice – love is the urge to become eternal, to be when one is no more, in some shape or form close to oneself, with thoughts that may be similar, with a face you may recognize when you visit your progeny as a spirit, love is attraction, fulfillment, release, yet love is also suckling, the maternal instinct, the ability to give away ones life for another, love is a constant that makes our lives have any meaning at all, for oneself, for ones own, or for others we know not well.

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