I guess that we all do have an incurable wound, don’t we–

the ability to love

this sickness that is the only path to health

this misery that is the only path to joy

I guess it is love.

A heart opened to the world is a wound that can never be stitched

it is pain, it is joy.

To love is to hurt —

A work that we must undertake.

bleed, bleed.

never close the gash

mourn every injustice

the moment you stop hurting

when you close the wound

and stop bleeding your love out to the world

is when we send the world into a drought

from which we cannot recover

humanity, from a lush forest

to dry thistle and brush

on which these wildfires of hatred thrive.

it is love alone that feeds the world

one fish feeding thousands.

no, we will never live on bread alone

…

I guess it is love,

that rescues every Icarus

finding the Sun 

in the heart of another

down on Earth.

I guess it is love 

that puts the sword back in the stone,

Excalibur,

choosing surrender.

I guess it is love 

that Zanoni truly sought

giving up immortality 

giving up the panacea

for the actual panacea

the hand of his love.

I guess it is love, isn’t it?