NAMELESS, A LOVE POEM

Can I say it without naming it?

I used to think it was about how you

made me

feel, all sparkly inside.

Now it is safety and comfort of a homecoming

and the smooth, pliable meeting of our minds,

thinking like

microchips,

clustered into a collective

commune, an electrical circuit, connected.

Proximal to gratitude, is

the warmth of belonging

with the everyday acceptance

of our differences, despite

our flaws.

Humbling because it operates

independently of worthiness.

Fueled by the sensation of

opening, the internal fiddlehead of the fern unfurls

near the splintered fence,

where weeds and wildflowers both

blossom and

disperse,

marked by joyful generosity,

glorious; oh, glorious

fed by the wind and the gushing geyser that

bleeds and flows,

the delicate wound

where they pool

in passage together without borders.

When there are no new ideas, it shudders, ending in embers and ash.

There is always the possibility

a pause

will rekindle kindness

wherein flames once kicked

and raged.

What,

love, with-

out which,

am I?