This poem is deticated to Lynria because her memories always inspire me.
Love Spelled Sacrifice
There is something about a declaration of love that always makes me stop and think.
A young boy, in his prime and above it all,
simply takes the time to voice a thought aloud.
He’s so proud.
As if somehow, the slapping sound his tongue makes could allow
a young girl to fully understand the depth of possibility
behind a word of such simplicity.
It’s insane.
But I believe in the word love…real love, an idea gutted by a love sick West.
Love.
A word of power.
Beyond the inane ramblings of some poor fool with a fluttering muscle in his chest.
I believe in the word.
Love.
Despite want and desire.
Love.
Outside the mire of lust and sex.
Love that’s made of fire.
Love.
More than a declaration,
more alive than consummation,
tearing apart obligation, and bring us to life.
I believe that the word love is spelled S.A.C.R.I.F.I.C.E.
I hear it in the voice of mothers,
see it in the gift of soldiers,
taste it in the bittersweet compromise of lovers,
and feel it in the darkness, alone in a song.
A symphony of hearts and minds screaming for compassion,
breaking away in a melody that’s longing for something better than this life.
Longing to just belong.
I believe in love…but what if I’m wrong.
If there is no such thing as love,
no reason for sacrifice,
no hope of an after-life.
I think I’d still believe in love, even if I’m the only one.
So, for one moment above all the rest,
despite an endless eternity of depressed
people living in a self-involved state of rot,
in that perfect moment of selflessness,
the world would possess everything I’ve got.
Cause selfish hate will send us all to hell,
whether hell exists or not.