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Sunday, July 3, 2016

Our Love

Like Hippolyta and Theseus,
with our love unfurled,
we bring order, stability,
steadfast loyalty,
bright light in a dark world.
Ours is not a dream,
there’s no magic in our art,
though to others it might so seem,
we simply play our part.
Cupid’s arrows never struck,
with mysterious love potions,
no magic flower picked by Puck,
creating dreamlike notions.
No accident, no stroke of luck,
we do not bumble,
seldom stumble,
satisfied each day
with what life has had to say.
No star-cross’d lovers,
hoping for do-overs,
no need for enchantment,
T’would just impede our way.
We’ve turned our dreams into reality,
true visionaries, we let life be.
Even if our love were a dream,
it would need to be embraced,
but no golden palace, no silver hill,
no white elephant need be chased.
Our love, like life,
though not a dream, remains
unfathomable, indescribable,
it simply sits there, glowing.
We cannot grasp it,
so we simply
bathe in its perplexity,
revel in its complexity,
be content in never knowing.

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