In a flower, in the Spirit,
That in humans may be found.
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Some of us,
Hoping, soOur poetic idealismWill come true,But it never does,Does it?Even, LoveSometimes,Escapes us, too.
To be rich,
Imagination,Opening doorsTo a lifeOf exotic fascinationThat no money can buy.Wealth,Of soul and feelingsSpiritual sharing,Unequaled donation.
There are no ‘scandals’
That decide what’s right or wrong,They’re by far a ‘Motley Crew’,And in Amazement, People say.‘Who, Knew? ‘
Poetry,
When lonelinessIs at its height,And Stars, converseWith mortals,About Love.
I’ve lost all
Fatigue and hesitationHave set in.Writing,Is a gamePlayedDeep within,And feelingsGone,No earthly prongCan make you fakeA pleasant win.
Poetry,
To express, The Dream,The Love of Life,The Soul,The Love of Nature,The Human Song,And Human LoveAt it’s Peak.