I have this notion of unconditional love thrown at me here and there where I express somewhat less than someone wants. That I have no feelings and . . . well I am the bin of discontent it seems, devoid of caring, the home of nonsense. Then finally the poisoned the arrow - that I am not a mother.

Ah! this conditional love is not yet gone,
though frayed and ragged and badly torn.
My simple mind cannot unfold the lies I've heard
from the truth - should it be told.

Yet from within this cave of love and pain
I arise and walk the road again.
What love I have is yours to take
as I cannot decide upon whom to shake these drops of grace.

Not willingly this gap divides
for I yearn to have thee by my side
or should that focus not be me
and yearn forever to be with thee.

The conditions of my love are few
yet full of promise to be renewed,
each day, each breath, each beat of heart
I am aware we are apart

And not for wanting do I cry
but knowing that as - one day I'll die
my love is but a passing sigh.

So speak not of conditions
be they none or many
though my thoughts seem to starve
or turn the belly.

Dance all night within the head
for when you awake all is dead
and if not so the game goes on
the killing spree - that sustainable wrong.

Not forever this nepotistic love survives
for conditions do truly decide
that each of us has a gift so small
that we take and lie that we shall live.

I'd be glad this be but a dream of what love truly means,
and when awake that I could suffer gracefully and survive
the architect of the unconditional lie.