Love is not an idea. Love is a person,
Or else how could we have fallen in
To it, and not our lover? Life does worsen,
As lovers tend to leave. But Love returns,
Be we saints or choking on our sin,
The same old Love. With lovers we take turns
And touch, but Love lives underneath the skin
Whether we take notice of it or not —
Whether it warms the blood, or the heart it burns
As tap water, a little less than hot,
Sets frozen hands on fire. From within
Love hunts for us. Ideas do not hunt.
The lovers blessed enough to hear Love’s greeting
Know it is not a thought — it is a meeting.