Committed

The power of pull of attachment.

Committed,

whether I want to be or not�"

not a star-crossed lover

of a tradgedy,

but one who’s heart is tied

by a soul mate’s invisible cord.

 

Committed,

some would say institutionalized;

some would say the institution

itself

is paper, bureaucracy, and an affront

to love itself,

diminishing its meaning.

 

Committed.

I only know ‘cause I’ve tried

not to be.

Not as hard as cutting ties,

lobotomizing,

or moving toward the spotless mind’s

eternal sunchine.

 

But I’ve wooed and been wooed,

tried on shapes and sizes,

been utterly drunk in New Energy,

and declared null and void my

previous commitments

with the stroke of a pen.

 

And yet, I’m still

Committed�"

drawn by an attachment

that others may call chemical interplays,

but that seems to me reaches

beyond space and time.

 

So I’ve surrendered.

To my Commitment.

It’s a thing.

I own it, even if self-manufactured.

I’ll nourish, love, let it play,

Serve it and sacrifice for it.

 

It is mine.