“Love, if you see me, I am a painter.

Brush in one hand and heart in the other,

I awaken to the orange and yellow genesis of a morning sky,

crawl through the green of afternoon growth,

and long for the blue of an evening embrace, 

to cover the red of the beat that carries me.

Love, if you read me, I am a poet.

Pen in one hand and heart in the other,

I climb phrases like mountains,

stumbling over syllables,

slowed by my own syn-tax,

I pause to gather the words with no strings attached.

Love, if you feel me, I am a sculptor.

Clay in one hand and heart in the other,

I press together, and form and bruise,

and mold, and build,

and heat, and crack…

waiting, resting on an open shelf.

Love, if you hear me, I am a singer.

music in one hand and heart in the other,

I hum the sheets of strength,

the sounds of compassion,

stretch for the notes of peace,

as the conductor calls for courage.”

Love, if you do see me, how will I know you?

How do I recognize love as it passes,

leaving not a path, but an imprint,

as it keeps changing shape….

Love keeps changing shape.

Love changes shape,

and color, 

and meaning,

and size,

and voice.

Love is always changing, and moving,

visiting places I’ve never seen, and waiting…

resting with patience,

feeding with forgiveness,

and holding with an ever evolving shape.

How do I see you, when you are red, yellow, black, white and blue?

Sometimes you are big and gentle, and carry those who dare think they are carrying you.

And then you fit perfectly into that tiny little space, that nothing else could fill.

So where are you now? How do I recognize you?

You keep changing shape…

How do I see what’s right in front of me…

Unless… unless, that is you…all you…

You are red, yellow, black, white and blue.

You are tall, and lie humble, and roll cracked, and sing ringing in my ears.

Love, that is you that keeps changing shape.

You, Love, selflessly and graciously, keep changing shape

for painter and poet, for sculptor and singer,

for life’s traveler, looking for love’s west.

With heart in heart, and outstretched hands,

when I feel what I cannot touch,

when I believe what I cannot see,

then love, whatever the shape, 

maybe when we meet, I will know you.”