The sermon of the couch

Oh,
how unhappy are the lovelorn
for theirs is an empty heart

They seek
and do not find

They knock in vain
for no one is there to answer

They drink and drive
and steal and cheat
and dishonor themselves and fight
for what optimism they hold dear

They are the gnats around coffee grinds
masters of head colds
and losers of decency

Theirs is the couch,
theirs is a computer chair
and lower back pain

Theirs is uncertainty
the same uncertainty we all face
love lorn or not
but they face it alone

The ones without who have so much to give
the child at Easter who cannot find a plastic shell
They are the unloved and beloved

You cry for them
your heart aches for them
and they do the same

for themselves.