MONUMENTS OF LOVE

Feb 14, 2022 Letters

By Haimnauth
Cecil Ramkirath

When two lovers meet under the old oak tree,
their warm embrace and kiss—
it’s an unearthly bliss
that stills the drums of wars and hatred,
the broken dreams, and sham in this world so vain, so sordid.

The world is weary of war but not of love.
Let there be monuments of love in every town.
Let the bell criers shout of love.
Let every pen be dipped in the ink of love.
Let every young heart dream of naught but love.
And if we would place a garland, let it be at the feet of love—
they would not besmirch the pink lily’s celestial perfume.

The roots are wrapped in love—
they send the giant redwoods a hundred miles above.
The river knows of love,
though boulder-ridden miles, a thousand tumbles, a thousand pains,
it tarries a while, but never ceases to look for the sea again.
And few would dare to open their hearts in songs of love,
as do sparrows and robins on the treetops even as dark clouds brew.

All of nature is a song of love.
Hear the gentle waves embrace the sand in a sweet love song.
And the Universe applauds every instance of love,
that holds the atoms, and keeps in orbit the stars,
and anoints the human heart and makes it whole again.

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