linda m. crate

a love that never ends

i'm burning for a love

passionate and intense

as me,

 

one that is willing to

cross oceans of time to

know me;

a fairytale love that rewrites

the stars and builds

new constellations—

 

a love so deep and cosmic

that the threads never

sever,

 

it just continues in every

universe and realm we exist

in after this one;

forever and forever and forever—

 

a love beyond love

which is not tethered

by the rules of ending,

a love which only begins and

blooms like a flower when

it touches us in every realm;

 

a love which can hold

every song of me and my magic.

 

 

 

love isn't lust

no matter what they tell you,

there's more than just

passion and heat;

 

more than simply kissing

and making love

or holding hands—

 

it is doing things when

they're hard or inconvenient,

when they get messy

and out of control;

 

it is being there for one another

through thick and thin—

 

love isn't lust whose

fires can blow out and leave

you bereft of any footing—

 

love isn't infatuation, love is a verb;

and you've got to live it to make it real.

 

 

 

rushing in with my love

i have always

had an easy time

loving,

 

but letting go?

 

impossible,

tend to hang onto threads

even when they make my

hands bleed;

 

until i have no choice

but to let go—

 

even then sometimes

i try to go back

to those threads,

 

but the universe sometimes

whispers no and swats my hand

like i'm a naughty child trying

to steal cookies from the

cosmic cookie jar of things which

are no longer mine;

 

so i try to be okay when i

am left behind even when i know

i never will be—

 

what can i say?

 

maybe i am a fool

because i am always

rushing in with my love.