Love Is All

In this wondrous world
of wedded opposites,
of paradox after paradox
I wonder what it is
that pardons so much polarity?
If all is One how can there be so many Twos —
inhale, exhale, in, out, my body, yours?

What holds these twos together?
Is it not the same force which pulls
lover to lover, one to one to make two,
ultimately to make one once more?
Did the unity of nothingness not promise
the timely return from somethingness?
The singular to the many back to the singular?
Is this not our destiny? Set in the stars,
in big bangs and big crunches.

Love is all. It is this unshakable urge,
this urge which makes saints lie with sinners
and city dwellers with rambling fields of gold;
It is this Love of Loves which pulls together
apparently disparate parts —
helping to re-member forgotten limbs;
it is this Love of Loves which has made joy
so very taken by tears that it will do all it can
to return into one’s heart space for even a mere glimpse
of that enchanting, silvery goddess,
as honest and true as the sky is blue;
that lonely goddess, ever calling out for her beloved,
that lovely goddess known as sadness, ever worthy,
ever bound by Love of Love.
It is true, joy itself is a love song to sadness,
as sadness is the same for joy.

Even our decision to turn from our nature,
to refuse to accept that opposites were meant to dance
in harmony and not in anarchy,
(even now, I, too, am refusing in my own preference for harmony over anarchy)
even our bewildered dissent from the truth
that we are all just crazy in Love with Love;
that our inhales and exhales, keeper of all dualities,
from birth to death, are inextricably bound to one another —
one another as one as one as one;
even this apparent turn from truth,
is the wedding dance of the fool and the sage.