Out of love
comes all in life that matters; Nor can one love unless one knows
one's need. Years are walls against which passion
shatters, Opening the way for joys that bleed. Underneath the choice of who is how, Requiring one again each day to
choose, Embracing a forever ever now, Not least because one fears what one
might lose. Given its immensity, the choice Astounds, as blind or provident as
fate; Given its beauty, one can but
rejoice, Evangelist alight before the gate. More than how one lives is how one
loves, Ever the terrain through which one
moves, Not shaped by fortune, but the work of
will, Though fortune ride the wind for good or
ill.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.