Poem September 9, 1985 Issue

Love is concentric ...

MARIO TOSTO

starting with I am
it radiates
to include the next nearest object
on its way to embracing the infinite All

love is a flood (not an arrow)
engulfing the whole ground
not sailing over what's so near and needy
(and perhaps not so pretty)
to far-off targets
not really known

love is never too busy
to stop for the child that tugs at its sleeve
but (as the Samaritan knew)
readily descends on the now
and pours in its oil

love is concentric

we can't heal "the" world
before we heal our own world
can't love "mankind"
before we see God's man
and love the next nearest one.

MARIO TOSTO

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September 9, 1985
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