Waiting for the broken glass

I do not believe in love at first sight,
I believe in love that always was.

For love is not a grain of sand
waiting its turn to move through the waist of time.
It is the transparent glass
that lets its world get turned upside down,
and its insides rearranged,
up until every shard within it meets
to realize they’re all the same.

For love does not have an aim.
It creates a home
for the lost parts of itself.
And when found,
time runs out
to take its place.

When it does,
love takes another turn.
But this time,
it runs out.
Not in loss,
but in the awareness
of its own supply.

It comes across the first sight
and sees below
six petals
it always knew
but never witnessed.

From this gaze,
love weeps with wonder,
and its tears
nourish the soil
from which it stands.

Love returns the next day
and the next
leaving home
to cry once more.

It never thought
to pluck its pleasure,
because love goes out of its own way
to watch itself grow.

Now I know:

There is love in time
and time for love,
but never time
for love alone.

So here I stand.
Love not a-waste,
but love still,
so it can be moved
in every grain.