Poem: To Love

To Love

That which I love

I slowly become.

A thin whisper of night;

 hollowed face in the sun.

This life we now live,

Marked by that which we chase,

Grasping at dreams 

     soaked in soul starved space;

Yet to love is not wrong

For how could it be?

Its beauty captured in song

Initialed on tree

Boldly exclaimed

The world all to see!

For to love is to be;

To bear witness to we!

Yet that which you love, beware;

         Quenched shall it never be.

So we chase . . .

Love unbound

Eternity’s fierce hound

In sheer delight of pursuit

There is no danger known

No life dethroned

No walk . . .

No step . . .

No grasp  . . .

Nor control . . .

Will break down the bough of the

Pursued

Well loved soul!

No empty space.

No time without place.

That which I love

I slowly become.