Was it ever yours or mine?
Has it been within our time?
Has it been just one great lie?
Lennon, Marley, Hendrix, whatever the suffix
they were referring to something but
was it only they? the greats who
were sensationalist enough to experience
the greatest feeling known?
No.
But what we're told and sold
is like that crappy bear that spoke
which you gave to a girl when 15.
The one you tore apart and re-recorded
when you realised that lust
can be misplaced or sordid.
We have love.
From the stranger the other side
of the planet, the pavement, the tree,
the car-pool, the old fool who knows
no better about who or what he is
but in some strange twist of life
you co-exist.
That is love.
It dies with your ability to accept or resist.



