Love, What a Fierce Idea

When I finally <saw> him
I saw the weight that he was carrying
and the way it was crippling him
and I cried for him
and for me
and how perfectly splendorly
it could have been
because a spark had been lit
and been allowed to blow out
a spark that should have been nursed along
with gentleness and a sense of the wild and sacred
and the secret jealous taste of aloneness
had been let loose again
and no one, least of all us,
would know the mad curling nights that
might have pasted the world back together
at least for some of us
and the urgent splashing of sadness on the walls
between the savage ripping of souls
don't even think about it
That's love, wake up and it'll kill ya