What does love say

To the mind’s swirling creations,

To its entrenched angst

And to all that ails

And seems intractable?

Love says nothing,

But like a tide of warm indulgence,

Love flows as the body of the boundless self,

Flows unstoppable to bitter ills

Dissolving all but itself

And freeing that self

From the illusions

That seem to bind it.