Love Should Grow

Sometimes it seems
that there is so little of the world left - 
how could we have done it?

The world is not TV or radio or newspapers -
it is bullet-holed skulls,
labourers' cracked hands,
the milky skin of virgins,
the gnashed teeth of murderers,
the quiet rapture of two lovers
in a candle-haloed room. 

So answer me,
how could we have done this?
And where has the time gone?
And when will the time come?
And why did Nick Drake die at 26
a virgin? 

And why is love always only
emerging, when 
it should be
right here
bursting
from
the two of us.
for ever? 

The universe is for ever
life is for ever,
but we are the brief arrangements
of cells. I look upon you
in absolute wonder,
Auden's words ringing in my ears: 

lay your sleeping head, my love, 
entirely the human,
upon my faithless arm,
and Armitage can cleave it 
from the joint or seam 
if that's what love means,
carry a gun, signal the alarm.

You are a miracle,
life is fantastical,
and I want to celebrate in it with you
before the clock runs
your beauty down
to the wind.