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 or fly. If we shall not love, I
shall
hold a grudge: lost in anger, cursing names and souls. I
love
us enough to relinquish love, to drift palm to palm with
another,
to skip rocks to seas, ignoring both faith and scream.
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.
