The Powerful Passion of First Love
The raging fire that is First Love plays on strings within us
A siren song that lures and causes loss of sense,
Passion that frightens with pain and joy so intertwined.
Our same drunken hearts laid naked without permission,
Fear of derision from someone completely uninvolved,
And all at once the need to hide from emotions
That expose us, our foolish pride,
Turns our faces, closes our eyes, and makes us deny
To those around us, and more, to the one we love
That we could even truly care so deeply and so full.
Then shield the heart, run away, lie instead of embrace
Feel nothing so we don’t feel anything,
Thus cure ourselves of this sweet ache.
Such great lengths of disguise, pretentious disdain,
Yet love’s pain denied is a waste,
And presents a heart to others that lies,
Removes our souls, and births an empty face.
A lesser love shall take the place
Of what once was.
Afar from paradise,
This soulless, loveless state thus born shall rule from then.
It shall design the mask that must be worn
To fool all others, and, at last,
Even our own hearts.
First Love was the only fire, all others merely candles
Lighted from the first,
And one by one, the lovers who come after,
Find us ever more emptier than the one before.
Games played, dues thus paid,
Are all for an empty god
Who was Love Lost, and heart cold,
The ruler of a life doomed to mediocrity and regret.
How sad that love that should have freed us
Scared us into the chains we chose,
Condemned to ever wish that we could have
That which we forever lost.
Time arrives when we have practiced
Avoidance and reticence,
Learned self-denial just to save face, to fit in
With those who matter not,
Till at last there is nothing left to offer
But tired and worn that no one wants to see.
The flower’s scent is for a season bloomed,
And we who see can also hear
The call of First Love,
For those who cannot are thus doomed
To find it blooms elsewhere,
Or not at all.
January 14, 2018