Sonnet 29 – Loving Without First Being Loved
Men speak of some as accidents or frill,
An undesired collision on the road,
As if the baby was a break or spill,
A cancer, or a tumor, or a node.
Though some, once told, are wrapped in arms of love,
Too many hear the words with their intent –
To pour an acid scorn down from above,
To make the lad or lass lower than lint.
What emptiness there is when one’s not planned;
What loneliness exists among cold stars,
When there’s no space allotted, heart or hand,
When sun and moon are pitted, hard with scars.
The challenge is when love has not one nursed:
To find an outer source and be the first.
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photo by A-K Rehse at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mfms0gI/lonely+tree
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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2013.
Oh, my, that is so powerful. And in those situations, there’s really only One who can make that person able to be the first to love, isn’t there?
Yet all is planned … We are given what we ask for …
True.