Poetry

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The search for what is dear can seem an endless aspiration
Void of self direction
Unchallengeable to change
What we deem so necessary escapes our capability to understand it

Truth inferably gets lost
Or do we simply not bother to seek it
For if we did, what we want might loose its luster
Suddenly shifting necessity to hollow desire
And ourselves become revealed

To place another above oneself is not in the nature of the flesh
This tent has its own intrinsic motivations
And these are not conducive to selflessness
Neither does this skin undertake breath as the needed exhale of another

Still, we say we are this way
We pray to be that this very day
We act in opposition of this anyway

What shall we gain if we live for only ourselves?
For life is but a cohesive link of the interpersonal
If it were not this
Than the ability to exist completely alone would not be a facile article
It would be the desire of every individual
But which of us can actually say this is the truth of us
This is the one thing we hope for

Not one
Our hope is fictional without the dream of another
And in that truth I do state more than objective
Of what we are capable of being

All that was not us then
Through Love is as part of us now
Power that makes us what we are
And who we will be forever

And until that time
Awaiting that moment that is perpetual unto never-ending
We are not void of the Love that is the absolute of that end
The absolution of that beginning
It is the causality of our new born capability to do so
To feel and to share
To love because we first were loved

Still, can it exist as unilateral?
Does it have meaning without countenance?
And does that utterance echo its derivation if it is made to serve only the giver?
Can love be Selfish?

Its very nature declares that it cannot
For in the flesh it does not abound
In this tent it cannot be found
Yet the aroma of its gift is chosen to be expressed there
This is His will
This is in His Son

And so we have it
By the sacrificial character of Love
In our choice
Because of His choice

Yet what will be the direction of our decision?
On whom shall our autonomy fall?
In what manner do we employ such a gift?
Is it meant to serve only us?
Or will we choose to echo the purity from whence it came?
The perfection of all we hope yet dare not call our own

Remember children
and I state this in all humility and self-inclusion

Where Love has spoken
And willingly chosen to be of lower form
For the specific purpose of defining itself in action

Where all you hope to be
And all you yearn to have
Must be defined apart from what can stand alone

One is the loneliest number

And our Lord has come
Has walked in flesh so that we may call Him brother
Has suffered so that He may know us better
To present to you the truth in Him
That to love is to live for another
And to die was His greatest way of showing you this

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