Names Written in Pen

All of these nameless faces, in this vast, ever-shifting crowd,
some ghost of vacant spaces spill into eyes of those around.
They try to say they’re broken, but they’ve never shattered true before
because they aren’t neck-deep in ocean, crying that they won’t do this anymore.
These people betray deception as if it were some frolicking fool.
Paying tribute to this poisoned resurrection, etched into mind of stone as some steadfast rule.
And to this devil lain in hammock woven by silver thread dew-stained by self-wrought tears,
an occupation that has been stolen, to lay in that barren waste cleared out by human fears.

These people tell me that they are broken, that I would never understand.
But with faith and risk I evaporated my ocean, and retaught that simple way to stand.
And these nameless faces in this shapeless crowd, risk nothing, pay no toll,
would not give life, give voice or sound, would not give up each piece of their soul.
They would not bleed their hearts for love, cannot drown in their mistakes
because they have sacrificed or tainted dove, nor written his name in pen that cannot be erased.

This poem is meant to illustrate the idea that without risking everything, love cannot exist. I truly do believe that is true. Love is not easy. It does not come gift wrapped in a nice little box. It is hard. And too many people walk away after one little thing. Love is worth fighting for but you actually have to fight. Risk everything. Dive in head first. If you drown, so be it. You’ll come back up hurt, yes. But you tried, and it wasn’t meant to be. Then you try again. And again.

Some people get hurt and never try again. But love, true love is worth getting hurt a thousand times.