It doesn’t matter how much you love,
Only that you love. You’ve seen how
Everything swells, the bud into bloom, 
the thin lip of the new moon 

into the radiance of a full moon,
spilling into the small pond.
For love strikes where it will,
if you are willing to receive it.

It doesn’t matter how much you love,
only that you are open to love, like a sail,
hoisted to the mast, ready for the windfall,
poised to ride the waves, precariously.

It doesn’t matter how much you love,
Only that you love, through thick and thin—
Even when you are hollowed out 
as the drill hits the bone:

The shadow recalls the light. The thorn, 
the fragrance of the rose. And when love 
seems cold as cinders, remember how the iron prod 
sparks the ember that still glows red.

For love strikes where it will,
if you are willing to receive it.