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.