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can You define
what cannot be defined?

a kiss---touch---
reciprocal---

hearts intertwined.
what we just broke

a moment prior
was a plateau on love.

a ceiling---concealed---
a wingless dove.

should we? do we
dare even to try?

anew---is this---
a love that is ours---

so unique and divine.

:::

see it? over there.

they call it Compassion Rock.

"why?"

because, i guess a long time ago

a monk named it that. supposedly

it "talked" to him.

"ha! that's ridiculous. people really believe that?"

i don't know. i guess so.

...you wanna go over there?

"dude. its a rock."

yeah. i know! but come on, let's just check it out.

"oh my god, ok."

~

"wow! so exciting. its a rock. now let's go"

it's pretty big isn't it. was is that? ...moss?

"probably, i don't know and i don't care."

jeez man we'll go...at least we can say we saw it.

~

If only the young boy asked,

I would have told him.

I am Compassion Rock

because the sun blazes me with heat all day,

and night blankets me in moisture.

One makes me hot, and the other makes me slick.

Even though I cannot protect myself

from the forces of heat and water,

I have learned to use my struggles against one another.

And as a rock, I still stand.

When I use heat and water together,

I grow atop my head, green moss.

This moss is a home for many little creatures alike,

and my moss keeps them safe.

I now protect them.

It is a place where they are free to live and grow

off of me;

My moss is the compassion

I give to the ones around me

because they, too, struggle.

:::

often, our words and actions of love

have to walk across an entire room

before being close enough

to be felt by the other's heart.

often, we count the seconds

of an embrace at the threat

of breaking an unspoken threshold.

often, we intuitively desire to

love closely---intimately---

exactly parallel to the level

of caring we contain for that other. yet,

we do the opposite;

lay down the increments, we make love

a measure of how much we fear being hurt.

fear more, of being abandoned.

fear mostly, of not feeling self-secure.

distance and discontinuity then become

a malignant form of love-cancer

for which there is a cure

but it is most difficult to treat:

     to love most closely our self.

     to never abandon our self.

     to make safe our self.

when we cure our self of sick-love

with our own love,

this act of healing leads us to the

truest state of love possible:

     a love that is

     close, safe, and eternal.

:::

a touch is a ticket;

it is free.

if from someone you love,

take it.

do not stop there.

give the ticket back.

it is free.

if for someone you love,

give it.

:::

My darling,

What you have, it not yours.

What you want, will never be yours

to possess.

It is yours to learn from.

It is yours to cherish.

To hold, to support, to nurture

until this love is ripe

and can be released from your branches.

When this fruit is savored by another,

will you then understand how to love, still,

even after letting go.