Coming Home

To love,
Is to observe,
The energy imbuing ideas and words,
Within us and those we serve.

To love,
Is to disengage,
From weary tales of sorrow and rage,
That demand attention, and a public stage.

To love,
Is to speak,
The highest truth,
For nothing liberates like truth.

To love,
Is to explore,
With wonder, humour, curiosity
And exchange discoveries openly.

To love,
Is to focus,
For loving requires our full attention,
So as to not expand with personal fascination.

To love,
Is to be,
Without wanting, without needing
The world to be a certain way to feel a certain feeling.

You need not hear from another how to love,
You know how to love,
For you are love,
We are all love,
It’s just sometimes, we forget.

Celebrate the forgetting,
Fret not, when you do.
For every time you remember to love,
You return home, to you.