We love
(too few, too many, not enough)
and so the patterns grow
unaided yet by understanding

We give
(too much, too much, too much...)
to wash away a sin
we never had to bear at all

Yet truly can another never do
the one real thing we need
to do alone:
forgive ourselves

Then the tables turn
and suddenly the need to give
becomes an emptiness
gnawing hungrily
for all the best we’ve given
needs to return

How startling then
when those we’ve given
all the best we are
just turn their backs
and walk away again

and yet how shining bright
the angel who responds
to our great need
implanting yet another seed
of love

and thus we find
the best of all we
ever could have been
in a response...

? Michaelette ?