I Shall Love Again

If you shall not return, I shall not chase. I will die here alone,

loving and nurturing memories. If you shall not return, I

shall love freely another, with dire wants, and eyes closed;

for arms reach for moments—devastated and visceral. If you

shall not return, I shall not chase; for emptiness and love is

upon us: an empty love, filled with everything, including

emptiness. If we shall not love, I shall love freely another,

with opportunity to perish and fly. If we shall not love, I

shall hold a grudge: lost in anger, cursing name and soul. I

love us enough to relinquish love: to drift palm to palm with

another: to skip rocks to sea; ignoring both face and stream.

I shall not return, and fall a dozen more times, unaware of

beauty and love. I shall instead flee, and roam, and mate a

love—brilliant and free: free to love, and free to fly, my soul.