Coming of Age

The poet speaks of love

as an abstract emotion,

as a pure essence,

as a longing of the heart,

as a grasp toward the ineffable,

as a projection of mystery,

as a hope for better days,

as a journey through life’s labyrinthine maze,

as a path through the murky haze,

as a whisper of something whimsical,

as a passion without boundaries,

as an effort to reach a state of perfect peace.

Yes, a poet speaks of love

in this way

until love is finally found,

and then a poet learns

to speak of love

as fact,

as certainty,

as purpose,

as principle,

as absolute truth

born from eternal salvation.

Now

I was not in love

and so I had

no one

to whom

I could write a love song

Now every word that she whispers

sends my heart into a frenzied flutter

Now when I lay my head down to sleep

she is the only angel welcome in my dreams

I can vividly imagine

from thousands of miles

across the sea

the electricity sparked

when her hands

are held in mine

Now when the sun rises in the morning

I know that it is she who creates the shine

Now every star that casts light from the sky

is a divine reflection of her perfect feminine nature

Now I am in love

and so there is

only one woman

to whom

I will ever sing a love song

***