A Poem: Where Does All the Love Go?
when the love goes
Where does all the love go
when the love goes?
Does it get transmuted?
And now the song I once sung for him
are the buds of basil leaves sprouting at my window sill?
Or is the love exchanged for Self?
A deeper look into one’s inner world
—a choir assembly with Source.
Maybe the love is my mother, holding my head in her lap
fingers softened along the slopes of my temples.
Perhaps all the love shared hardens and callouses around the ventricles in my heart.
Blood pooling at the pathways journeyed together by us,
muscles frozen stiff in a time long ago.
What happens if the love is destroyed,
ripped out of faithful journals
and burnt by fireside.
Does love again rise
from its ashes?
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