this one's for all the lovers

On Valentine's Day, this is for the lovers:

Dylan Thomas tells us why he writes poetry:



"... In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.

Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Nor for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art ..."

'In My Craft or Sullen Art' by Dylan Thomas

If only I could learn to extend the love and generosity of spirit I freely give to other people and apply that same standard to my own self, then surely life would be that little bit easier and more breathable. Our motivation must not be to seek possessive or consumptive love. Rather, in seeking to generously, freely, creatively and thought-fully give, and learning to gain pleasure in this, without expecting or demanding anything in return, then, and only then, if this meets with the fostering of a deepening connection between two people associated with some form of reciprocation, then that would be completely overwhelming. It would be just as if it were always summer. So, the task at hand is 'to be there' to try and help make the lover well again:

"...When the lad for longing sighs,
Mute and dull of cheer and pale,
If at death's own door he lies,
Maiden, you can heal his ail.

Lovers' ills are all to buy:
The wan look, the hollow tone,
The hung head, the sunken eye,
You can have them for your own.

Buy them, buy them: eve and morn
Lovers' ills are all to sell.
Then you can lie down forlorn;
But the lover will be well.

Poem VI from 'A Shropshire Lad'
by A. E. Housman

Happy Valentine's Day everybody!