...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gRHu7JaBLag&ab_channel=l0user

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Ah, I know that love -

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Young as I was,

Naïve, as I might have been,

I know that love

And I haven't forgotten it since.

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It is a lighthouse,

A beacon, unyielding;

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It is a head resting upon a stomach

At the edges of an after-hours, hospital bed;

It is a spare room, a midnight crib

And a shared pair in low, bowed shoulders;

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It's breakfast, bacon,

Dawn's faint fingers;

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It is an apple tree, with fallen leaves

And the weather-gray of a grave-stone;

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It is a contract, that needs not letters

And neither a pastor, nor a bible lain

For an exchange in oaths 

To be sweetly, sworn upon.

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It is, instead, a hand held

And a drawn, distant look;

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It is disbelief incarnate,

A signature in a yearbook; 

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And it is a slow dance, performed,

Even to the very ends of the world.

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I know that love -

That lighthouse -

And young as I was,

Naïve, as I might have been,

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I haven't, since, found it within myself 

To've yet, forgotten it.

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Author's Note

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45106/sonnet-116-let-me-not-to-the-marriage-of-true-minds

(1-4--2-4-2-2-4-2-2--2--4-2)

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

The many images in this offering seem to be varied, but in them I find a similar theme. Love is more than attention, more than arousal, more than warm and fuzzy feelings. It is that which supports, comforts and is ever there, " a slow dance performed/Even to the very ends of the world." It is the love of Sonnet 116 and 1st Corinthians 13, and neither have I found it within myself, but the belief that it is there is what keeps me going.

[Ookpik]

That's an insightful passage there, John, and I can see that it means a lot to you (I recall your previous work on faith, hope and love). There are aspects that strike me more than others, and I suppose there's a certain ironic partiality there, but I'm not going to try and deconstruct those meanings, and neither do I want to interfere with its significance to you.

As to the above work, the meanings are somewhat complicated and weren't written with detailed explanations in mind. The images simply are, as I remember them, and are as inconsistent as love can sometime appear to be.

However, I feel that the nature of those memories go beyond ideas like constancy, or inconstancy. They're synaptic, and part of their strength comes from the fact that they hold but temporary positions across the arcs that are our lives.

They last, in my mind, regardless of when they happened, or how vividly I can re-render them, and they stand the test of time simply because I can still remember them.

That is the idea behind the lighthouse, and though it's not really specified, my belief is that the sparks that make up its beacon are those that're yet still seen through the storm - though I can't profess to know that anymore then anyone else can, and I'd worry for my sanity if I tried.

Apologies for the lengthy response, as always, and I appreciate your taking the time to read.

-Ook