Buddha

Love is a day job
Which occupies the light. 

You could be the nurse

Of the flowers

Or carry the weight of the dew

On the grass. 

The rule goes the days are 

Only hell

If our mind allows.

For the taproot of hell

Goes down as far as sky

Reaches up.

Hell is seen when love is 

Not enough.

The rule of love, then, is a 

Construct.

That love gives birth to each one of us

Means search boats

In the harbour wear stories 

Of new land,

Land abundant and love not 

Scant.

Love is where there is to get to.
Buddha teaches us that.