Love Poem

Love Poem When often in the autumn lighted rain, When skillful fingers fall upon my place A Czerny etude. It is then I think Of early love or middle love or late.

Of the pain of things or its spiritual joys Which run from lie of it to the peaks of truth, Of ego's burden and defenses put off down With toys and swing sets of a rusty youth.

The gamble of love is to take your trembling chance On others dice and turn of fortune wheel.

Open to sword and gun, we remember now That heart once broken, never again shall heal.

To be a human you have to love – but remember this: The grave of love is deeper than its bliss.

And yet there are many who mourn where they have lain, Would say the joy is greater than the pain.

Carl Estrin