the taste of walls

the new world says:
'self-love
is the best love',
'the only love',
'you cannot love another
until you love yourself',

and when I love myself,
the world says:
'you love yourself too much',
'feel it all in your body',
'let it all in',
'that's how you can know love'.

and that's when I ask myself -
is that why I sit in the shade
of a tree I cannot call my own?
is that why a rainbow
streaks across a grey haired sky?
is that why a flower unfurls her wings
to ants and bees and dewdrops alike?
is that why a fruit perishes
in the warmth of your tongue?
is that why a deer looks into the eyes
of a roaring lion, giving itself over
after a fight?

what is this love?
what is this fear?
and everything else,
between, beyond and around?
all that we speak of
in our glorious tongues,
that have only but tasted
the walls of the mouth
of this yawning universe?