First he loved

After I John 4:7-12

First he loved

me, the disciple whom

he loved, so much

that even when I’m

an old man, sitting on

a rock, staring out

at the sea when I’m

not having visions,

everything falls away,

fading before the memory

of his love, the reality

of his love, the presence

of his love.

It was, it is, it will be.

That’s how he loved –

a look, a touch, a word,

a laugh, a cry, he breathed it

even as he breathed

his final gasp of air

a final grasp of his hand

a final glance toward

us gathered in the dirt

before him. At that moment

his love was finished,

his love was begun.

Photograph by Jacob Meyer via Unsplash. Used with permission.