To Love
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To love
A single one
A simple thing only
To derive life which flows to other
Tis not the whole which makes one whole?

Upon the flower’s bloom
Splendid scent wafting on colored breeze
How fair the field she lies
Offering
Nurturing
Feeding full thy creatures solely bound to earth, as well as plumed and the winged
Beauty’s robe tis not all the gracious Mother sews
Tis life Itself she flows

So doth one thing
One precious ray of light
One quenching drop of dew
One fecund till of soil
Give life its prater son?

Ah sweet child
Tis all
Tis all which makes the whole

Doth a mother love just one and forsake remaining brood
Indeed a nurtured heart brings forth bounty from single, suckled draught
Nuzzled close, warmed and nourished from such fair maiden
Thy sun, thy moon, thy God, and thy creator
Drinking deeply precious infant
Oh sweet child
Tis not the case as each drop drains, Love doth return her two?
Flowing with thy Mothers love myriad of creation brews
Love begets Love

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