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A Psalm of Unconcealed Love

Two people with short hair embracing, one kissing the others forehead outdoors, sharing a tender moment.

Love is not the possession of commandments stone 

Or a lover’s banner dangling pleasingly upon the skin,
But, the moment after the last song is sung 
and all the wine has all been drunk, 
When only woundedness
And the revelation of a prolonged aching keep us company. 
Love lives here. 
Unmasking and detaching
And for once, abandoning the sweetness of illusion 
For the bitter release of the truth.
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