LOVING IS MY PROFESSION

I am no magician. No teacher. No preacher
No poet.
No painter. I am no philosopher. No no no wood cutter. No butcher.

No pimp. No Pope. No leader . Nope! No patents on my name. No saved lives to remember.

No I’m no architect. No farmer. No chauffeur. I reign no thrones. No kingdoms toast to my name.

No I’m no alchemist no explorer, no astronaut, no bartender.

I am a lover, that’s who I am, loving loving loving endlessly, shamelessly, recklessly.

The broken bones, the city cathedrals, the chimney smoking ceaselessly. I love I love.

The lost poems and rubber wheels, toothless smiles, the street urchins and the four movements of the symphony.

The dying and the dead, the living and the lifeless. The cold of snow, I dearly love. The trains and roads. Lives young and old. The shy and the bold.

I love, I love, I love it all, I love them all and oh I wish I could leave behind my little parts in them, for them. Wish I could live in the dark and the light alike, as though both my guests are warmly welcomed.

Loving is all I know. Loving is what I live for. Loving is my occupation. The other engagements? The other occupations? Love brings them to me as gifts but I care not how they come or how they go. Love should live on. The love must live on.