Love Bothers . . .

If tomorrow I finish the final chapter
Of the book I started 5 years ago
And the next day
I die, then why?

Why bother?

Because every ounce of effort is pure love
Pure being, pure human pulse and
beauty in motion and because, because
this is true of all people whether
Or not
They grace the who’s who of beauty and truth…

Or die quietly in a cancer wing
never known by the masses.

What is true? We are love.

If today I start the next section of my garden
and plan the plotting of the best green revolution
and then die in two weeks,
why bother? What’s the point?

The point is love and…

love doesn’t die. Every ounce of love showing
the uniqueness of one life as love, of love, for love is a spiritual
investment in generations to come
even if it’s “merely” the plotting of petunias on a hillside or
the move from an oppressive relationship into solitude.

That’s why you put one foot in front and then the other.
That’s why you hold up a standard in the face of destruction.
That’s why you define what life is about for you…
so love can find that much more opportunity
to manifest herself
himself
all

in a never-ending song of being love
in spite of the towering fists, the showering acid and
the brutality taunting, suggesting the futility of life itself.

Love bothers.

j. ruth kelly © 2008

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3 thoughts on “Love Bothers . . .

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