Pan—?

A Queer Love Poem

It is funny, how divided we are on this.
A great irony, perhaps, that we mandate
Love as anything less than great mystery.
We know nothing about normativity.
What is natural, unnatural, supernatural.
There is, surely, but one love—a field,
Or perhaps a quilt, that envelops all.
You are a person who loves a person?
No, you merely occupy love with another.
Not even that, perhaps: you are occupied
With another by love. Persons are irrelevant.

I have been Bi, but there is no duality about my romance:
There is no distinction between who would be loved by me
and who would not be loved by me: they are the same.
I just want everyone to be okay. I just want everyone
to be immersed in a great hug of forgiveness and understanding:
Mercy—mercy, Love & Mercy; that's all I am for You.
Call me what you will: I am a dreamer of unbidden longing.
I am one who walks between all Being and is loved by Nature.
I am one who's silence gives voice to all possible worlds.
I am not a God, but I have heard of Them, and I may love Them.
But that is my choice. More often have I failed in love
than failed to love at all. More often have I given all of me
than received anyone, all or nothing. For, it is better
to be a fool in love than foolish in love. I am queer like that.

It is funny, how stupid we are about this.
What business is love but the business of lovers?
I don't mind other's love as best I can: I am a cad
at times about others' love but only out of my own love.
To tear down love out of not-love? Who does this
but meek, un-mighty peoples undone by love—
To love truly mustn't one first love the panorama of others' love?
No, I cannot understand forsaking others' love
utterly, condemning such love that is unloved by others.
I love only what I love and what others love
is no concern of this love that I love, no concern at all.

Like Pan, I play my pipes for all the world to hear:
I finger the melody, kiss the wind into song,
flirt with the temptation of my own lullabies,
reclined against the ever-love of Nature and Time.
Like Pan, I am just passing through, I am not here,
and so, when you see me: Know I am for You.
Arrogant, selfish, and in love: I am for You.
Quiet, sacred, and alone: I am for You.
There is no thought in this empty head
unoffered to me by the muse of your existence.
There is no touch in the language of my fingers
uninspired by the memory of your breath.
There is no song in my repertoire, no silence,
ungiven to me by the grace of your sweet mind.
Like Pan, I am the symbol of your creation
through the casual blooming of your unhindered Love.
Like Pan, I will always be here, even when I am
not here, even when you do not see me, always am I for You.