There is only so much Love in your life
it leaves and returns
in new shapes sizes and souls

a finite amount
in your strength to return
elastic
unkind

Pain, sweat, remorse, and glory
are four corners of a compass
that only point the wrong direction.

The secret is in the cool breeze
the ice on your burned face,
morning sunlight on shivering morning skin.

Sweet relief in the river,
The knowing embrace of endless night ...
Still the wrong direction.

The best way is no direction,
but a person,
a lover,
to find their smile,
and smile back,
and float on.