Our Own, Well-Intentioned Love Always Falls Short.

Ah love.
For whatever you’re worth.
You try to do the right thing.
Promises are made deep down
and one thinks they are
making good headway.

Sweet love.
You try to give to the need.
You think you are listening well
or that you’re there for someone.
That moment one on one
comes along and love tries
to evolve in both directions.

But how frail our love is.
How quickly it disintegrates
in the palette of variables,
that occur in the time spent.

Love. You truly stink.
You are found out to be
something that you aren’t.
That love that we thought
was love was really nothing more
than selfish intentions
when what we think
should be returned to us
in repayment, isn’t.

Love is found to be a shamble.
We call something love
but it truly isn’t.
It’s selfishness packaged
in expectations and presumptions.
We mostly do things
for our own good
rather than
the good of others.

Real and genuine love
is sacrifice. It doesn’t
always feel good.
It takes up a cross
and dies on it
when something is
misunderstood.
It’s allowing for space
and the grace
another needs
and it lets all go
for the sake of another.

It’s letting go of control
and the need to be
the most important.

It is hard work.
It suffers long and is kind.
It isn’t envious.

It lets go.
It wounds deeply
because it gives and gives
and doesn’t always see return.
It is tears when one is alone.
It is being patient even
when there isn’t a ray of hope
that anything will turn around.

Love let’s go.

Not without many tears
and heartaches.
But without manipulation.

And that isn’t something
we come to naturally.
God has to take us down
the road of the deepest sacrifice.
He alone opens our eyes.
And at the end of this road,
where barely a soul travels
is a cross
and you know it’s the end.
It was tailor made for you.
And it reads,
“This is genuine love.”