A poem simply sounds the bell, of that which words could never tell.


Love is not exclusive,
Love dwells within,
Love does not only answer to one name,
Love is who we are and want to be
And seeps like the air we breath
Between all the cracks and crevices
Of our days,
Our worlds,
For we each have a world
Of our own
With a population of one.
There are as many images of God
As there are different worlds,
But there is always
And there can only ever be
One truth.
Sometimes we cry out
To be shown that truth,
But it can only come to us
In our own way,
A way our world will recognise.
Sometimes it is a whisper,
Sometimes a scream,
Often just a silent knowing
Suddenly filling
That aching void,
The calm and peace
Of truth restored.
Longing is not the same as love,
Longing is a bridge
That true love must cross
To meet at the centre,
Each leaving the safety
Of their own world
To risk that journey.
One does not lure another
Over to the opposite side.

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