what is Love?

 what is Love, Father?

i do not know

if blocks to love are things,

Love must be the space,

Spaciousness

hold gently

not to keep for yourself,
for that is lost to you
by the holding,
the separating,
the needing,
squeezing,
grasping

the litheness
denied

let go
and watch
the feather float
feel the softness,
but do not
claim it for yourself
alone,

feathers
are meant
to blow in the breeze

watch the flight
here
 and there,
swooping
wafting,
no past,
no future,
up  down     circling around

i am not God,
determiner of its correct path

rather,
watch,
and when it comes close
simply feel the joy

She is your very self

Freedom

to tumble
to touch the ground
to  rise high out of sight
for a while,
to be caught in the bushes
and fly free again
after a good storm,
and even  lay
sodden in the
mud

Love is the space
that holds
everything
gently