The Call of Love

You know damn well
It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for;
If you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
For love
For your dream
For the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrows,
If you have been opened by life’s betrayals
Or have become shrivelled and closed
From fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with hurt
Mine or your own
Without moving to hide it
Or fade it
Or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
Mine or your own
If you can dance with wildness
Let the ecstasy fills you to the tips of your fingers and toes
Without cautioning us to
Be careful,
Be realistic,
Remember the limitations of being a man.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me
Is true.
I want to know if you can
Disappoint another man
To be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
And not betray your own soul.

It doesn’t interest if you can source your own life
Back from its presence.
I want know if you can be faithless
And therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty
Even when it is not pretty
Every day.

I want to know if you can live with failure
Yours and mine
And still stand at the edge of the lake
And shout at the silver of the full moon,
“Yes. I’ve heard the call of love.”

It doesn’t interest me
To know where you live
Or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
After the night of grief and despair,
Weary and bruised to the bone,
And do what needs to be done
To feed the children,
Ours or theirs.

It doesn’t interest me who you know
Or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
In the centre of the flame
With me
And not shrink back from burning passion.

It doesn’t …………..