Make Love

Make love.
Thinkers and doers and shapers,
Drape love on every sooty snow and
Budding branch, every swarm of deer flies in the
Mist, every glowing eye and warm tear that glistens,
Every animal who looks, who listens, who quakes.
Bake love into every bead of sweat, every
Missive, every alphabet. Love until it’s
Done, till you are lost and lame, dismissed;
Until your very breath, undone, denies your kiss.
And if the mystery of love is greater than the
Mystery of death—though I suspect they are
One and the same—make more
Mystery, then.

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