On Love

I will never write about Love.

For when I did

I believed I could capture

Something so uncapturable.

I thought I understood

Something so unexplainable.

When words stay fixed

And are subject to interpretation

While Love is mutable, because alive

Yet fixed

But in the opposite way to words.

I will never write about Love.

For today I don’t know what it is

It is not what I thought it was

What I heard wispered in my ear

Unnumbered times

I wish I never pronounced Its name.

I will never write about Love.

For all definitions

All the teachings

Don’t match with today

And make me question my yesterdays.

I will never write about Love.

For it’s the only thing

We shall not write about

But live

And tell no one

So everyone can be caught by surprise

By a whirlwind

By a smell

By a word

By a coffee

By a kiss.

And know.

Still unable to name it.