Poem: Is Yonder The Man?

We fall
again and again
for the wrong him,
for the wrong her,
like As You Like It,
and try to right our wrongs,
by thinking our way through
and turning our backs on a longing heart.

We believe
again and again
that we can contain
a feral love,
like an unruly toddler in a playpen
but our hearts break free,
leaving all asunder,
seeking the soulful source of their delight.

We know
again and again
that if all we have is love,
it's all we need have.
It's all we've come here for
and we should bow before it,
but don't -- so instead,
we are brought to our knees by it.

We pretend
again and again
that we have some say,
that we are the masters and mistresses
of our love's mastery,
but learn we are merely players
in this comedy of haphazard hearts.