A species that is capable of love
is divine
It is not a game that surrounds us
This elaborate circumstantial lie
Echoes our doubts and fears
The short sighted plan to extort 
Empowering our brain stems 
Not our hearts 

One must play the cards 
they are dealt
And yet there are no cards

One must deal with unfathomable absurdity that tumbles forward
And yet these things sometime line up

A chance meeting
At a crowded nightclub 
47 years ago
That then fills with acts of love and compassion 
A true passion
for decades

The truth is a matter of imagination 
That sense of other choices
That fear of a bad hand 
This late in the game
Playing Hearts

The old dog is rasping 
at the end of the bed
That last heart beat will be
Capable of love
so
“Nothing dies of too much love”
It’s still a winning hand

SGL – July 2nd 2023