Now that bubble of love has no door
yet easy, so easy, to walk right in,
unpack our bags, put up our feet,
and make ourselves comfortable.
As so as a welcome guest we sit;
no need to clean, cook, serve,
or repair the old, broken or cracked,
or preserve the beautiful.
We shift the furniture, move ornaments,
and change carpets, curtains, linen,
to suit our own peculiarities
as if it’s our given right.
Now that bubble of love patient and kind
observes these machinations
and wonders how long it can bear the brunt
of mankind’s twisted perceptions.
One day that bubble will build a door
to close on the undeserving
and how would it be with nowhere to go
to make ourselves comfortable?
Clean, cook, serve, repair, protect,
and maybe, just maybe, maybe …