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One Great Love

Has anyone ever lost

the One Great Love

you were born to find,

staring into your beloved’s absent face

as he empties his pockets

and swears on his

own lost heart

it just ain’t

to be found?

Did anyone ever lose

their One Great Love

in the overgrown reflections

of all the faces of who you used to be

and particularly, who you used to submit to

and what you used to do to save yourself

from the vulnerability of

loving so utterly

and completely?

Did anyone ever forget

that your One Great Love

cannot be replaced

not in the endless gaze

of the lust that vanishes leaving no trace

or the promises of fate disguised as lovers

you were born to hate

and rue the day

you ever met?

Did anyone ever lose

your One Great Love

to the passage of fallibility

in the murky swamps where we hide

ourselves from love, laying low,

lower that you ever knew

you could stoop?

Did anyone ever lose

your One Great Love

not only to your own inadequacy

but also to his, as he hides from the pain

of loving someone so human and fallible

as you?

Did anyone ever lose

to your One Great Love

the avowed and consummated future

that cannot be dreamed nor undreamed

by a solitary heart

lying in tatters galaxies apart

in sheets that still carry

the testimony of your

truly sighted


Has anyone ever searched

for the One Great Love

you were born to lose,

not only in the perfect remains of yesterday

but, more poignantly, in the beauty

of the future only you can see,

as he stares into emptiness,

that gaping gauge he’s carved

in place of the pain that

would have ravaged him

had he agreed to

let you in?

Has anyone ever fallen

so deeply to their knees

and searched so sincerely

amongst the debris of unwanted failings

in your own flawed, human personality

begging like a child for empathy

as he empties his pockets

and swears on his

own guttered heart

there is nothing

left to give?

Has anyone ever lost

their One Great Love

yet failed to give up

and danced the whole human night

until the dawn of death outside his door,

singing his name and

inviting him

to open up?

Has anyone ever lost the need

for their One Great Love

to love them back,

and more importantly,

has anyone ever found

anything more joyful

than being held right through

in the iridescent eight-limbed universe

of their One Great Love?

Has anyone ever found

a way to hold oneself at night

more tightly and sweetly than

your One Great Love, or found

your One Great Love eventually,

inside your own breast,

inside your own breath,

and learned to satisfy

your own great longing

to be recognized

and adored?

Did anyone ever lose

your One Great Love

right before take off

when the wheels disappeared,

the whole damn world you knew,

and you don’t even realize

you’re higher now

than you’ve

ever been?

Looking down on the ruin

of your One Great Love

with nothing left

to support you but empty space

that somehow seems mysteriously

to take you up and up

guttered and hollow

nothing left to do

but to fly






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