If they ask me, at the gates
what I’ve done to get in
and all I have to say is that I fell in love
I expect I should be thrown out
If they ask me what I’ve left
what I gave to the world
and all I can point to are my children
I suspect the gate should stay shut
Because love can’t be the reason
Procreation can’t be my answer
I cannot accept that I was put here
To further myself
And what of those who never find it,
so are we lessened?
And what of those who do find it,
so are we fulfilled?
When I ask myself
the only question that matters
the answer can’t be love.