What to Do with All the Love that Remains

The most beautiful thing is 
always the thing in front of you, 
my mother use to say.   

And she was a beauty, 
always smiling, a beauty mark
following in front. 

To see such beauty 
was to die a little 
in the heart each day-  

Each day to give your 
heart away until 
there is noting left.

Love is the echo that trails 
in front of the kiss left behind,
she use to cry to me.

She gave so much 
never knowing whether 
it was too little or too much.

until she died and
willed me her heart,
20,000 futures to spend.

So I look forward to all the kind 
gifts left to give, the closeness 
that remains until parting.

Until then I can not get lost in 
the soul’s bereavement, counting 
remaining moons, fading blooms.
 
Love does not mean being loved
but unbinding from grief’s existence,  
living in all of love’s gifts remaining.