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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