Harvest.

I’ll not tell you
Not to clip your wings,
For I’ve done the same
For the love it might bring.
I’ll not tell you
Not to muffle your song,
For I’ve done the same
Thinking it was for love all along.
I’ll not tell you
Not to hide your light,
For I’ve done the same,
Thinking it would brighten love’s flame.
I’ll not tell you
Not to silence your voice,
For I’ve done the same,
Thinking love’s best choice.
I’ll not tell you
Not to give your whole heart,
For I’ve done the same
Thinking love’s playing its part.
I’ll not tell you
Your love is a crime,
For I’d choose the same
For love I’d take any punishment –
I’d do the time.
I’ll not tell you,
Not to bend, crawl, or stoop;
For I’ve done the same
Thinking love would deliver, true.
Love as you choose,
Like the breath in your chest,
Holding it inside
Becomes as toxic as not inhaling at all.
Allow it to flow in and out,
As natural as a breeze,
Attempt not to control
Lest it die to be free.
But when the love you offer dies
As fruit on the vine,
Do not blame the wild tree
For another’s crime.
Uproot and seek fertile
And rich earth to replant,
And watch as new love flowers
And all that was spent
Is returned in full.
See how in due season
Richly harvested fruit
Pressed into wine of the divine
In the fullness of time.

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