When our love was a nascent thing � force barely thrust,
We were already locked in the place of our trust.
Though our fusing was fresh, in its first flaming phase,
Each was merged � melded full � with the other one�s ways.
We did circumvent Nature�s immutable law,
Which invests us at onset with one tender flaw �
Inexperience. We, in the strength of our bond,
Overstepped our beginning for what was beyond.
When our love was a growing thing � power in action,
We knew it was potent � yet only a fraction
Of what it would be, and though vehement, vital,
Would reach to a place sans description or title.
We walked far away from the lovers of locus
Who search for the limits, a place for their focus.
Articulate � what? Love�s ineffable growth?
One could sooner stop time. Vanquish sadness. Or both.
Now our love is a wild thing � bucking, untethered
An aged � but a child thing � naked yet feathered
A flying thing taking us � somewhere. Unknown.
And we scarce can absorb all the places we�ve flown.
Ere we�re off in the stratosphere � higher and higher,
So close to the sun we are singed by its fire,
But learning � the constant thing. Love as our mother.
Hand of the one on the heart of the other.
Copyright �1998 by Duane Dodson. All rights reserved.
Published in Poetry the Write Way: Webstatic - First Journey (Sept. 2000)
Second Place, Webstatic Poetry Contest, First Half 1999