Love Is A Nonsense

Love Is A Nonsense

Love is a nonsense.

It is, isn’t it?

A stupid idea, perhaps conceived

in conception

or some other fulfilment of need

from the time before we had

a need for words.

I mean, what is it for?

What does it do, Love?

It lays a burden of duty,

propriety,

on those it afflicts.

It constrains the mind

and steals the time of

the lover

and, in return, the loved.

It dilutes the power of concentration,

of one mind focused

on one thing,

because another thing,

an other half,

is always in there

demanding

time, attention, obeisance,

more,

leaving less of me, for me.

Other love, brotherly love, motherly love,

love of family, love of friends,

that love is pure,

unqualified, unconscious, unselfish

given freely,

taken, and given back.

What am I saying?

Am I even speaking

of Love?

I don’t know.

Love is a nonsense.

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