On Love

Love has oppressed me. Love has forced me away. Love has hidden itself from me. Love has denied itself to me. Love has refused my touch. Love has made a fool of me. But love saved my life, and for no reason I can think of, and when I did not want to go on living, gave life back to me and showed me I can enjoy one. Then left. So, why do I keep dropping everything to chase after her? Oh, I see, my, love is a mirror!

We came from the wilderness ourselves as wild as all the rest of it. And our presence today makes it clear we were clever and adept. Something of the wilderness, a fragment perhaps, remains inside us. One never ceases entirely to be wild even in slippers in front of a tv screen. All fear is false.

My love has always kept her promise.

“Never, she said, "tell anyone what I tell you now, but, I will never be true. There. Now you have it. I am made that way. You will have to be true to me if you like. In fact, that is why I am pretty. I cannot be true so I am pretty. I am here so you have something to be true about. You may write me poetry. All fear is false.

When I say I am never going to be true,” she said, “I mean that my nature is loyalty itself so being true is without form and void. Everybody is true to something. I am. It is no big deal. Be selective is all. Never mind. And all fear is false.”

Love is void. Formless and void. And real. A real tyrant. Love is God.

Love has oppressed me. Love has forced me away. Love has hidden itself from me. Love has denied itself to me. Love has refused my touch. Love has made a fool of me. But love saved my life, and for no reason I can think of, and when I did not want to go on living, gave life back to me and showed me I can enjoy one. Then left. So, why do I keep dropping everything to chase after her? Oh, I see, my, love is a mirror!