Though this page too will crumble (Valentine card no. 35)

Someday we will have made love for the last time.

Will we know this at the time as one inept and final fling?
Or will cooling embers simply have turned to wisp-whipped ash?
Must I name a heart suddenly failing?
Or illness imposing impolitely
loss upon loss?

Perhaps not. Perhaps nothing of the kind.
For love once truly made – can it really stop making?
Ever creative, does it not live on, love on,
in that common good
of our children’s living,
of our callings calling on,
of words inspiring,
and deeds still doing, in a way,

on into the mystery of heaven?
Marriage will be over, there, said Jesus,
who knew, I know.
But our fates by now –
by then will they not have been wedded
beyond reckoning, beyond revoking,
you and I, friends unmarried,
yet embracing, loving, creative,
in the embrace of
Love making
all things new?

Yes, one last time will come.
Yet love once truly made
will outlast time,

I believe.

 

Gerald Schlabach
14 February 2016

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