Writing of love feels like an exercise in words, trying to define the indefinable within the stricture of language. Philia, Storge, Ludus, Agape, Philautia, Eros, Pragma … mere words that attempt to trace the ephemeral which escapes containment in syllables and consonants.
I think of the Sun when I imagine love that millions aspire to. The one that we glorify on Earth instead is that which never seems to get past the stage of affections or useful partnerships or a deep caring based on mutual respect and trust. Love for all intents and purposes appears quite practical, hormonal, hardwired into humans for the issuing of progeny and their caretaking, ensuring their chances of survival. Love aspiring to selflessness is painted often to be the holy grail. It’s terrible to imagine such a lofty unattainable ideal, it’s inherent impossibility and consign thus, ones attempts at love towards abject failure.
Is the answer then, not to idealize love in the way we imagine God or soul, creating such illusions to make those that seek, feel like failures in the absence of achieving that which cannot even sufficiently be described. The poem I write is about the holy grail of love, something one aspires to like God but the truth of which may never be known or perhaps something definable like the nuclear fusion within the Sun but extremely difficult to replicate.
My Lord, I see you burn in passionate collisions / the universe conspires for such a meeting of minds in atoms / Was that the pressures of the Milky Way / the burdensome tug of orbit / gruesome gravity of planets / or nothing / but the fallacy of an eternal flame of selflessness //
Magnetic / interactions of atoms in soul / folding in unison into the hot of temperament / or was it temperature / Are they not the same / and us, mediocre imitations in our tepid flares of love sonnets / our feeble attempts in the melding of atoms / as we disrupt under practical pressures to a sad fission//
You burn in the lack of a starry name / venerated in mythical euphemisms of Man to be solely himself / Mithra / Jesus / Sol invictus / but You are no Man nor Woman / You power the world of plants / brighten Venus and Mars / hold the earth in a vice grip / as you vaporize the emotions of the morning /after the lashing out among the sheets of a bygone night under a full moon / which is simply fire on a dimmer switch //
The Love frenzy of plankton / boiling away the ocean for the function of the ages / acceding to the philosophy of purpose / practicing economy of gonads / surviving annhilation in annhilation / What then is love / but that which is in You, the Solar orb / the singular conceit of eternity in a blaze / and we my Lord, can never match that / in our petty commitments to mortality //