Poetry

Love is imperfect.
It can sometimes be impatient, disappointed, and frustrated.
It may be dissatisfied—want more.
Too often it puts its own needs first,
And fails to see the needs of the beloved.

Love goes on trying, though.
It stays in the mess—
Believes things will change,
Or that it will change.
It recognizes its own suffering,
And so, realizes the beloved is suffering too.

Love does the best it can and 
Accepts with gratitude
The best the beloved has to offer,
Even when that best doesn’t satisfy the 
Mysterious longing inside.
It knows the longing is impossible to fill.

Love doesn’t dwell on desiring more.
It dwells on gratitude for what is.
It sees its own imperfection,
As well as that of the beloved,
And it feels compassion and
Tenderness for both.

Love doesn’t give up.
It doesn’t pretend to know
What the future holds,
Or how it will feel tomorrow.
It focuses on now,
Is self-aware,
Open, and vulnerable.

Love accepts whatever comes,
Holds it lightly,
And lets it go when time moves on.
It sees the good and praises;
Sees the flaws, 
And keeps silent.

Love often fails to understand.
Still, it keeps on seeking.
It accepts that it may never comprehend—
There's so much it can never know.

Love disappoints its noble
Aspirations,
Acknowledges its limitations,
But forgives itself,
And begins anew.

Love fails,
Over and over 
And over again,
But Love
Never ends.