The Naked Troubadour

There is no single soul to call The One.
The love-cord twined in everybody’s heart
can just as easily be finely spun
to weave a home in any counterpart.
The seeds of love will land wherever they
can find some wholesome earth to flourish in;
for they can spring to life in any way.
It’s love which chooses where it will begin
…and never end (though interruptions come,
disruptions too) with many journeys made
for to love’s siren call we must succumb
when destiny plays out its serenade.
It’s wise there’s more than One for us to know
for through variety we vastly grow.

© 2012, Alan Morrison