An Answer

Do not dress a poem alone –

trying to grasp the places

your arms cannot reach yourself.

Love does not ask for alliteration

or sweet assonance

but merely a love met with love.

A uniting of souls, a fusing of words

and dreams. A naked love,

unadorned and bare, where all

its imperfections are made known

and embraced in spite,

no, because of them.

Love is ignorance,

a willing pupil, committed to study,

to sing unperfected lyrics,

to speak unheard words unspoken no longer.

The beauty of love is the lack of certainty

in itself. It is only the reflection of that love,

stretching halfway in faith, joined in the middle

that can bridge the gap of certainty.

Then we, you and I,

can join hands and cross together

and know that more than our love

is holding us up. It is the bond,

the beam of support on which the bridge is set

that will take the weight of glory

on its steady shoulders

and allow us to dance; free, united, certain –

and suddenly we’ll look and see

the bridge has lowered and set us

to dance on top of the water.

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