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Thursday, July 03, 2014

They Who Deny

I wonder how can they who deny love, write and believe?
how do they live without the need to breathe?
          -- for either you forgo your nature
and her greatest adventure,
or else deny the omnipotence
of what opens the body up to another
million billion different stories
that speak in the same way;

for who can deny these descendants
of that first shy glance; that first moment of moments;
of which there must be one -- for surely this heart
in the millennia during its first start
must have first looked in some lover's eye set apart,
found itself in the first embrace, the first joyful cry,
in that tender touch that sings of life
          in the littlest of things; for love
is not merely about the great flow of seas, rivers or streams
or discovering the great expanse of dreams;
it's a daily exercise in the smallness of living,
on how the lungs rise and fall with another's breathing,
how chemicals clash and burn to unseen atoms turning,

and to deny love is to deny
its existence in all these small things
that hold our seams together ever tighter;
for the tiniest can lift up the largest prayer,
to awaken us to the hope lying just beneath
          the surface of fear,
it makes us aware of the paradise in the ordinary
          that resides everywhere,

and to deny love is to deny the clasp of hands
that brings the warmth of skin, and the opportunity
to open hearts and let the welcome visitor in
to dine within: for love was made for the eating:
to bring spice to the tongue,
and add salt to our meat -- love is the grit
between your feet that takes you
          to where courage and foolishness meet;
where love lies not merely
in the greatest beauty the eye sees,
but in the most bitter,
          but in the sweetest of discoveries;

and to deny love is to deny
these smallest memories we feast upon daily,
as manna to the soul that drives us on -- it's the braveness
to forgive, and the forgiveness of mercy,
its the power of giving
when love commands you to open palms fully
or to lay yourself bare to its quality -- and if that's a sin
          then what else are we made in - if not this caring?
where you'll readily
give your heart for starters,
and your soul for afters
simply because love is the transparency to share;
it helps you push through the thickest walls,
to remove the tolls
built across connecting roads,
where you are your favourite song sung
on the longest car journey you'll ever go
with the voice of two,
you become lyrical imitations of its flattery,
singing without a care
and a deaf ear to the scenery:
for all love is just you and me really
going somewhere,

and who dare denies us the right to love here?
           -- how long can you stop a mind from its thought?
or keep the hand clasped across the mouth?
          -- but love's will being stronger
will always breathe you out;
no matter who you are, or what you do,
one will always need the two,
for love is the spark that ignites
what one alone cannot surmise,
that to be the greater in stature
what matters in love's eyes
is not how great your size,
for greatness is just a temporary disguise,

and who would deny us that wisdom to be wise?
I wonder who would deny life the breath
          it gives us to live?
I wonder how can they who deny truth,
          ever write and believe?

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