Love is not the same

The Christian cannot hate, he must not hate,
This violent strain of human hearts is not
A part of him.
And all the world is hate except his heart
And all the hate of worlds was in this heart
And took from worlds of hate and made him part
Of worlds not seen or worlds between
This wood and earth which groans and moans; impart
That part of him.

This wood and earth which groans and moans beneath
his hate, which is a stage for every lust
For every broken must, for every trust
That giv'n in hate from hearts that seethe
And words again come quickly from the foaming waters where the mountains fell
Deep down to hell, I stood on rock.

On rock which in that spacious place I felt
And his heart too was hated when I knelt
And prayed with luminescent wings of fire and incense
Which with stony lips spilled forth in nonsense
Helped by hands which knew each corner of my skin
And every thing within
I prayed to him who seas obeyed, Leviathan.

No, love is not a word I knew,
I never could discern it as I flew,
I never saw a man whose mouth could spell it out
Or mind without a shadow of a doubt.
I prayed for love.

O Love! Who knew your ways when water fell from empty skies?
Who knew you when the flood obscured the desperate cries?
Who knew you lurked in Abel's blood?
Who knew this thing which went from blood and flood?
Who saw her empty son of man?

Pale rainbowed love you reign above the throne
And hold back hands which tremble with each groan
Of wood and earth until the martyred souls
Complete their circled walk.
Then shudder at the power of love!
When stones which marked with chalk
Confess a name to strangulate him like a frock
And he is.

O love! You are my unfamiliar name,
Which I bow down and strangulate my heart
All joy is here complete and not in part
I do not quite know how or where to start
But you are not the same.