to dream of love…

It’s ok to dream of love –

to need is not to fail,

to want is not a weakness.

So why do I think ill

of it?  Ill of me?

Why is it that longing

feels ungrateful?

Does needing make me

incomplete?

Why does seeking seem

so faulty

naughty, even greedy?

Does wanting it all

make me needy?

But its ok to dream of love…

 

Isn’t it?

 

Does dreaming of love

put one in conflict

with loving ones own self?

Conflict

with ones own mental health?

In seeking there is

every chance

of never finding

sweet romance,

yet is that enough

to never seek it?

Or an excuse

never to be weak

and open to the hurt

of being human?

What matters more-

the pedestal

of lonely and unbreakable

uninvaded shore?

Or the chance

of being wounded

in the search,

sullied in the conquest,

with the unknown possibilities

of victory,

the prize of

the unshakable… Love?

 

It’s ok to dream of love…

 

to lose is to participate

rather than like a

damsel wait

and wilt, and wither thin.

The capstone on the vault

she entered without fault

buried for eternity therein

“for fear of doing any sin

she failed to do at all.”

 

Let it not be said of me!  I will dream of love.

 

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