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Fulfilling Love: A Poem

This is a poem I wrote many years ago. Enjoy!

Fulfilling Love

 

O love of all loves, so elusive and spry,

My heart longs for that which I cannot espy.

A deep hollow longing, as half memory’s dent,

Seared deep in my soul, by Heaven’s intent.

 

Lost love, oh deep sorrow, what terrible loss,

Is Everyman’s fate who pays Adam’s cost!

Whose Heaven-made purpose, ethereal design

Hangs but dim longing, on the dark fallen mind!

 

For well, soul, thou knowest that passions thee fill.

But what is their purpose, can aught them all quell?

Is this longing for joy hollow torment designed?

Nay, longest thou joy, that deep joy thou may find!

 

What love then, O heart, is worth thy pursuit?

What love will fill thee, bring joy absolute?

Thou feelest the weight of unknown desire.

What love art thou made for, to quench passion’s fire?

 

Longest for Eros’ soft love like a feather?

Will woman’s fair beauty, satisfy ever?

Nay, well thou knowest this could not be it:

Eros’ always expands and never can quit.

 

Then long thee for Stoiche, or friendship’s desire?

Neither have brought it but fed high the fire.

Could it be fame, maybe freedom from guilt?

Tricky and whisp-like, these leave longings felt.

 

Or longest for nebulous “worth” like a crutch,

Oft counseled from screen, as counseled from couch?

Will thy “finding value,” “asserting thy will,”

A prideful “self-confidence” thy desire fill?

 

Longing supremely but one thing requires,

Supreme good alone fulfills its desires.

Hearts set on aught else will find no content,

It was for high worship that thou, soul, wast meant!

 

Delight can but rest in highest Delight,

As candle was made for naught but for light.

As surely thou, soul, wast made for one story,

To image and mirror, as glass, Maker’s glory.

 

All of those loves, which the world seeks so long:

Perverted and fallen, weak, shrunken, not strong.

For they each set for longing creaturely goal.

Love turned on its head, its own self to extol.

 

Yea, fallen love is like standing at sunset on the sand,

And then missing the beauty in praise to my hand!

Love never was meant to make much of me,

But that I, self-forgetting, praise Great Trinity.

 

And thus, oh my soul, rejoice in thy Lord!

Who paid for thy folly in Goodness’ own blood,

And all to restore thee, drank justice’s dark cup,

And took fallen love, to turn right side up!

 

O, Love o’er all loves, ineffable, fair!

That lifteth my eyes o’er sky, beyond air!

That soareth my soul, past thought of itself,

And getteth its glory in measureless Wealth!

 

May thou be mindful, its glories to seek,

Seeing man’s tensil-love as truly bleak,

And loving thy Maker, quench all thy thirst,

For though love from thee fallen, He loved thee first!

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