Love that pulses—
irresistible, irrepressible—
through poems, drumbeats, sweat, and tears.
Through calm presence and quiet glances.
Through mutual gazes remembered forever.
Through shared laughter,
cackles that crack spells.
These reorder and rebalance.
They move the current.
They shift what’s stuck and stagnant.
A love that commands,
“Tuck me in really, really tight, Daddy.”
A love that surrenders,
“Fine! I’ll be home by midnight!”
A love that asks,
“Can you listen to me vent for twenty minutes?”
A love that remembers,
“You smell and taste just like last time.”
Love, a systemic wash—
rinsing shame, loosening fear,
dissolving distortion in the line.
Love makes room.
Makes space for disillusion.
Completes interruptions.
Opens space for true exchange.
Charges the body electric.
Love, the lighting of a candle.
Love, the letter unsent.
Love, a world beyond empire.
Love, a message whispered to the dead.
Love, dancing in the home-field of what’s emergent.
The love that speaks before language.
The love that arrives as raw instinct
and makes sense of everything.
The love that rethreads the wild.
Oh Love!
restorer of the field.
Love, the original movement, resumed!