Who am I to speak of Love?
Every word I have ever said
Was untrue;
Whatever I thought,
Was wrong.
Each time I make a shape for it,
The shape is wrong;
Always too small, or too wide.
Incomplete,
Or too complete.
Love resists the corale of reasoning,
Infinitely Wild,
Endlessly Free.
Everything I have ever held of it
Was a handful of dust.
To say, “I love you…”…