A Cherry’s Patience
by Odin Roark

Who knows love...really?

Try as we might,
how futile the effort.

For…

Just as beneath a microscope
where a snow crystal beguiles
as it waits for nothing,
transcendence beyond its outer reality
holds true to the mystery of its inner self.

An awaiting cherry in search…

Remains aware that one's heart
knows passion's rejection,
usually finding the empty scabbard
only after the reality of blood
seems the now of forever.

Yet…

For every affectionate mistake understood,
life's crimson warrior of chance stands ready
for yet another quest,
another venture
into life’s most profound intimacy.

Might one’s “through a glass darkly”
be the I within,
the only essence human life knows,
rendering helpless the You without
as it attempts to create one from two?

Is it folly…

That love innocently seeks duality,
believing that for every touch
there is that which becomes touched,
and for every breath taken
there is a breath given?

Is not being in a state of love
but a oneness with intimate caring,
that always available presence
like rain clouds scouting what
needs nourishment?

Imagine…

Love's singular cherry as it awaits,
remembering its venturesome blossom,
wanting only its destined experience,
that affirmation of its existence
rejoicing its time of harvest as awakening
another patient smile once more.

Perhaps the answer is simpler than we’ll accept.

Mmm.