Love is a soulful absenteeism in its presence: A poem 

Do you think you feel a disconnectedness with sanctity, 

a loss of personal structure, a kind of colossal fall from 

self-dignity, an erosion of the soul (because your soul is 

also made up of the love you feel for others) due to betrayal? 

I know that I don’t take chances with love because I am  

strongly discerning! Not many fit into the elite echelons of my love 

bracket because I am highly discriminating. And not many would  

venture into it because they would soon reckon that I set very  

high standards for myself. Yet, I never sat on the high throne  

of moral judgment, because I was subject to so much blame myself. 

Yet who should I blame, in turn? I am ferocious about my dignity, integrity, 

honour? Would I reckon that my vulnerability of selflessness  

would be laid bare. Selflessness is a virtue of innocence,  

because you don’t seek any gratification for it; unlike the calculative  

self-seeking of the vested powers. You think its honorable and unconditional 

to do justice to others while you undergo cruel self-flagellation yourself.  

But would it always be put to righteous use? In the bonafide of duty, one can be 

manipulated to make loathsome errors against oneself. I know, 

this has been quite a mark of my journey. How do I feel when the  

esteemed preacher in the pulpit misled me? There is a weight of love 

that becomes so heavy that you can snap from it. But did I cease to love? 

There are too many victims of circumstance! I cannot beseech you all  

to have the same kind of intrepid strength that I do. I do understand that  

you have no options when behested by treachery, or else face a risk  

to yourselves. So, I don’t hold you all culpable. I just think I ought to bear 

 the onus of the risks myself! There is a gratitude for love even in its despair! 

Its veracity is not verifiable on my terms because of its vulnerability. 

I won’t qualify it, and I reluctantly name it, because it can be disqualified  

by my entitlement of it, due to a rapining evil! It is best a soulful absenteeism  

in its presence! There can, for me, be tactile love in its invisibility!