In Real Love

A poem that attempts to define “real” love



In real love,

We are neither cause nor effect,

Force nor motive.

We neither own nor need;

We are simple, we are gentle;

The fire that crackles,

Comes from no lit touchpaper,

But from the molten core

That metamorphoses freedom into play;

It’s fashioned of aeons, breathed in, in moments;

Eyes light up, not with push or pull,

But with the ever-knowing of the spirit’s freedom;

We neither own nor need,

We are one, as a deed.

I’ll not try to win you,

For the victory is not mine, it is ours.

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