...and the Greatest of these is Love?

I love the way the golden light

glances of the earth below

when the sun is sinking

to rest elsewhere

and

I love walking in the autumn time

through the crunchy leaves

all rusted and rich

in their transience

but, Love?

I love seeing my breath

like little wisps of mist

on dark wintry nights

lit up under streetlights

and

I love listening to Dinah Washington

as I stroll melancholy through the streets

weighted down with longing

for all things lost and gone

but, Love?

I love watching the birds

flick among the naked branches

stripped by the season's change

oblivious and light

and

I love seeing children play

smiling and giddy

carefree and mischievous

abandoned to pleasure

but, Love?

Love is for junkies

free people can never love

You can never love and be free

for Love is the wax of your foolish wings

Love is nothing but a word

spewed out of drunk mouths

at three in the morning

brimming with big empty feelings


Love is a word for magicians

addicted to illusions

getting lost in smokescreens

trying to make the loneliness disappear