Twice Warmed

One look at you kindles my Love
You are the firewood and the ax.  
What can I say about Love  
that hasn’t already been said?
I didn’t start this poem to  
use the word circumlocution,  
but I didn’t give up until I found it.  
Love swimming in the ambiguity  
of the poet’s intention,
Using many words  
where fewer would do  
especially,  
in a deliberate attempt  
to be vague or obtuse.  
Isn’t that really what  
Love is anyway  
That indescribably vague thing?
We muddy the water with  
elusive descriptions of  
Love and Life,  
of Sin and Death.  
They are just shallow  
graves we visit every day  
in a garden of strangers,
But Love is our shrine,  
the place where we worship  
While we live in smoke and mirrors  
and begin to believe our own lies.    
Love remains our only truth  
Where attention is the beginning  
of devotion.  
Using words to describe Love  
is always insufficient,  
but the question regarding  
what Love is  
is always satisfying.  
You are the ax and  
the firewood  
And both keep me warm