Love is...

... born when babies cry, pearls of joy as the angels sigh
... the fountain of youth, silvery innocence of restless truth
... sunlight glinting on birch, shining white tree with radiant mirth
... harmony of night and day, in separate orbits with equal sway
... the strength within, perched on the outside looking in

... a secret of whispers and looks
the essence of which none capture in books
the essential experience none can compare
a shy revelation can leave the heart bare

... in the heart of the adopted ones, for they are the chosen daughters and sons
... in the eyes of the blind, for they make no judgement of colour or kind
... in the outstretched hand, which gives unasked to the poorer man
... in the very first kiss, soft, trembling, eternal bliss
... an echo over thousands of miles, a phonecall, a letter, to bridge ocean and sky
... in life's precious breath, which leaves man suspended between eternity and death

... a prayer in war and in peace
... a language, save the soul can speak

... so simple. So pure. So true.

Love.

Love is ... you.


valentine, 1997