nightingale song

love, like fear

roots itself in unseen places

in an exhale or a groove in the heart

carried on the smallest spore of breath

and in the lightest touch of touching

felt as deep as the deepest universe

inside your bones

love, like death

is captive of a hope-swollen heart

chained to time in a race for yesterday

longing for infinity or at least

one moment in a night of forever

a wanting as big as the least of the pain

at the bottom of your soul

love, like spirit

is a landscape with no boundaries

tenderly and torturously open

to interlopers, poachers, healers

hearts on sleeves and beating in palms

raw and red as the deepest flesh

of your wounds

love, like song

holds the sacred promise of dawn

in the muddiest roots of the heart

its bass-line pulse and steady thrum

unfolding into a mind full of lotus blossoms

emerging as naturally as the sunlight

of laughter born from tears