Writing about love

When love lets me speak again, then perhaps I may sing love songs;
when my heart comes home again from higher realms;
when its golden wings grow tired of circling love’s bright sun
and my spirits in command of my sinew and my bone
then I’ll seize my pen and try the impossible task
of turning the secret sights of Heaven into words
but, until then, “I”, “Love” and “You” are the only words I know.