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Sunday, July 19, 2015

Team Love

Purchase It Was the Worst of Times, It Was the Worst of Times here

Maybe it’s semantics but I don’t believe in love….
as a noun
I think it’s only a verb
because I know I can’t run out of it,
I know I can’t hold onto it,
but I can own the conduits
and make sure they work.

Well, well, well
well sometimes they do
and sometimes they don’t
and sometimes you have to fix the come and go

I’m just a bit addicted to the tops and tails of loving 
it starts just like a sudden rain
on fields of baked and brittle crop
and ends just like a housing market crash
when delusions finally stop

Ahhhh
I love those twin peaks
that help suspend that thin bridge 
which spans across the most impossible love

But everything between I seem to struggle with
when everything is calm I feel inadequate
I get passive.
Loving’s never passive.

No, no, no, no
I never really learned to love effectively
I only seem to love in ways I want to be
I don’t aim right.
Loving should be precise. 

When love was just a noun I could run up a tab lying down
coasting on the fallacy of constant love
but in reality I think we love in fits and starts
and everything between is just a promised heart. Hey!

I know it’s not romantic but sometimes I think we never truly love another being so much as the sensation of loving 
Perhaps the height of happiness is nothing more miraculous than optimized giving and receiving in perfect rhythm

and it’s hard to find…
it’s so hard to find…
it’s hard to find someone with rhythm like mine.

If I want to be a great man, (if I wanna be a great man)
I will be forever working, (I will be forever working)
and I’ll be fixing up my inputs and my outputs
I will learn to love and be loved from any direction

If I could do that 
I would never be lonely
If I could do that 
I would be so patient
If I could do that  
I would never withhold loving
If I could do that 
I would never concern myself with reciprocation

I’d never let someone be a bottleneck of my loving.
I’d learn to feed the world and by the world be fed.
If I could fix the stitching of our broken language,
I could be sewn into the soil rather than hanging by a thread.

We have one word for so many different relations…
from child love to inanimate objects 
Now is this because we don’t value love?
or because we know it’s a concept so simple and binary
it’s easy to confuse it with the memory or the promise of 

impossible love.

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