A thing,

And passion,A poet is no more,Than that.Each poet,Owns his fashionAnd reality,And really wantsNo moreThan that.Life could become so scary,If poet’s words, his passion goesFor Poetry is everything,A poet wants or even knows.

Than those that don’t.Those who loveAre more fulfilledThan those that don’tThose who write PoetryDon’t give upSo, neither you nor IWon’t.Those who love LibertyDon’t lie, to exerciseControl,So, as Americans,We won’t.

In Life’s Lagoon,No shore to go to,No place to be,When you are lonely,You’re like the Sea,Rolling forever,Stopping no more,Forever searching,Love on the Shore.

Becomes just pure emotion,No words have to be said.Love needs not of a language,Just Looks can say it All,The Feelings, the Emotions,Are Love’s perpetual call.

And cross every ocean,That ever exists.Sweet is the notion,That Love will be found,And surround,All the Heavens,Till then, tightly bound.Sweet is the notion,That Love will persistWhen all else is gone,And doesn’t exist.Sweet is the notion,So simple, so pure,That Love is Emotion,Of all pain, the cure.

Within us.Who can tell?What really churnsUs, ‘sinners’.