The tedium, the flatness of one's longing,
When kisses are formalities and sex routine,
Is love, the kind that lasts,
The soil in which one plants a life
That it may grow.
Time is needed, time for roots and leaves,
Days of sun, nights of yearning, years of seasoning,
Cold winds and summer rain.
Here rules matter, and discipline.
Here loyalty matters, and fidelity, truth, compassion.
Here self-sacrifice trumps self-pity,
And one finds pleasure in the pleasure of others.
Yes, ecstasy ebbs and flows,
But joy is a pedal tone.
One knows this is love by the music,
By the grace, by the goodness,
By the tedium, the flatness of one's longing.