Finding a way

As soon as we label something,

it loses its essence.

Paradise once called its name

can be hell too.

Can it be the Expectations

that we create

quickly fermenting sour

into resentment and disappointment?

If I call you Friend,

is it not a jeweled cage in disguise?

Can we simply experience the

flow of it all, like rivers

finding their way to the sea,

evolving,

expanding,
contracting.

Words have no meaning.

The best love story is not told

but lived.

Can we find a way to free ourselves?

I ask you,

what if we begin again?

Open the door and pass through it.

I hold out my hand and wait for yours.


By Mai Brehaut