This is not a love poem
nor is it without love, it speaks
as if the memory of a star-
woven in the dust that makes us
bold embers that burn
and fill cold darkness
this is not a love poem for we
are born of love, and the fear
of no love, such creatures we
a soul that slipped inside the shell
into an awakening; rebels at grip of time
rejoices in the moments that
race to fall like wind-scattered sands--
the spirit writes a poetry of happiness
etched upon the essence of senses
an unbending will, the boundless place within
defiant of all we pretend--where we only know
to make from loss and emptiness
a greatness of love
2 comments:
I'm not sure if I agree with all the thoughts in this poem, but whether agreeing or not, one thing is for sure, it has your optimistic poetry voice.
sometimes the optimist is the one who does not understand that the boat is sinking...;) while i believe in many things, i know only a few-- one is that I am a better person for having known you...h
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