Reflections Of A Traveller Poem by Eric Micha'el Leventhal

Of all the countries I have ever seen,
my favorite nation is the one called Love.

Love claims no borders, issues visas none,
divests all guests of false identity,
grants passage to the lowest of Creation,
makes of acceptance foreign policy.

The government of Love forgives all debt;
its sacred fires all ignorance consume.
Love's constitution banishes regret,
its anthem a resounding A-U-M.

Compassion is Love's only legal tender,
a scaled economy of truth and rapture,
its surplus budget of complete surrender
an enviable GNP per capita.

And each night Fear encamps upon Love's edge:
Cannons of doubt assail its mirrored walls,
yet none survive Love's swift intelligence—
sworn enemies unmasked as allies all.

To dwell in Love is not an easy thing,
though many through its gilded doors may enter.
Its fields reveal an end to wandering,
its streets a compass beckoning to center.

One must become a stranger to all strangeness,
renounce allegiance to one's parent nation.
Love's every breath swears loyalty to the changeless,
eternal prayer of naturalization.

No postcard can contain Love's dizzying vistas,
though many strive to clench a souvenir,
and following the path of least resistance,
one ends at Customs: 'Nothing to declare.'