True Hope Is Made of This

2570539380102335886S425x425Q85Writing yesterday about a great love of long ago and mentioning losing her was the beginning of my demise into dysfunction has turned out to be an interesting piece of serendipity. The spiral that began back then is illustrated by what I was writing in the early to mid 90s. Purely by chance while looking for an old file, I came across these last night


Why do I love those incapable of loving me as much in return?
Why do those who profess love to me hurt me so easily?
Why do those I love have to say “I’m sorry” so much?
Why can’t they just do different instead?

Why do I care if I live,
Since I care the most if I do.
I yearn for someone to make me live,
and want to be,
and give me a future to believe in.
Life without hope,
Without possibility,
Is such nothing.

Then, WHY am I?


Is there a woman who can love me as much as I love her?
Is there a woman who can believe in me as I do her?
Is there a woman who can support me as much as I do her?
Is there a woman who can help me as much as I do her.

Where is the woman who could hold me when I need to be held?
Where is the woman who can make my trouble go away?
Where is the woman that can give me strength?
Where is the woman who won’t doubt me?

Where is the woman who can love without demand
and know I would give all if she did?
Where is the woman?
Are you her?

Reading these was a pleasant wake up call to how far I have come, how much more peace is in my soul and how much better I understand love between a man and a woman. I no longer look for value and esteem outside myself as I once did. What a miracle! Gratitude washes over me as I write. I am highly thankful!

Though our hearts are not together,
Sweet fondness dreams of this:
I long to hear her laughter,
I long for just a kiss.
Though her eyes are elsewhere shining,
And warm embraces do I miss,
Yet passion’s song is mellow still,
For true hope is made of this.
“Absence” by Danny Rowden