When nothing else could help, Love lifted me

It’s a beautiful feeling, although fleeting:
you walk upstairs into the open living room
and see a tongue of ocean between stands of hemlock
and further east the reclining hip, waist and shoulder
of an island, its aura glistening in the morning sun,
and every trace of anxiety, envy, fear, is gone.
And you want to call a friend, but its too early.
This lasts approximately halfway through your first coffee.
The rest of the day will be a write-off, of course,
your mind, like the head of an eel,
drawn this way and that,
by it’s fondness for the good life,
it’s unmatched ability to create little scenarios
where you’re out ahead of the pack
strolling through flowers cast from the margins onto your path.
Well, there’s no end to these picayune ego-fictions,
(Naturally this is not something I feel comfortable discussing,
but somehow I felt I could talk to you.)
nor the subsequent dunes of discontent.
But fortunately the earth rolls over and there is sleep;
sleep and the memory of morning, when, it was like, or it was,
God, in the guise of a bald eagle gloriously glided past your four windows
and a rush of self-forgetting love — yes, for every neighbour and stranger —
lifted you into the truth of an old hymn
and even parts of the Lord’s prayer were answered:
for you, rarely-repentant, frequent-flyer trespasser,
had been, as it were, invited in. And over tea:
“It’s simple really,” says Love, “what you desire, provide.”

The title of this poem is from Love Lifted Me  – a hymn by James Rowe, 1912
The last line is a rephrase of a line by Franz Wright, from his poem, Entries Of The Cell, 2013