The Unnamed Shape of Love
To place a name on This
would be like yoking the divine,
lashing spirit to a wooden post,
or veiling the luminous beauty
of a pure and open heart—
Let us let it be
the mystery,
as we are one in the same,
mirrored particles floating through space,
immeasurable in our freedom—
shackled by our own imposed frame
that breaks the magic spell.
Let us let it be
the amorphous organic shape
that it wants to be,—
and if we call it anything,
let us simply,
and only,
call it,—
“Love”
