Poetry

Willing

by R. Newell

What is love

but the joining of searching souls,

the melding of merging minds ever open

to joyous adventures and magical probabilities?

What is it,

this unrelenting thing,

this clasping, clamping, crimping thing

that bends steely static with changeability?

It is

breathtakingly

glorious pure vivacious

energy rhythmically pulsing

in conscious unison with another willing being.

Willing.

Willing to open

to possibility. Willing to surrender,

unconditionally, everything. Willing more than

wanting; wanting more than needing. Loving is not leaving,

is not you,

is not me, is not

pretense comprised

of fabricated fearful could-be's.

It is willful

selfless communion,

glowing ecstasy, beaming

divinity. Quite simply, love is us.