However personal, yours may be,
You have a ‘rendezvous’,
With mirth,
To play and describe,
The music of life,
And all its Beauty,
As a Rose, as all of Nature be,
As far as the heart can see,
You must have feelings and respect,
For All of Life,
No matter whose life it may be.
Poet, you have a debt
Of respect,
To the individual,
Whoever, he may be,
A debt of love,
To your reader,
Gratitude, fraternity
For by reading your words,
He has deeply honored thee.
Knowing very wellThey are ephemeral,Are we cowards, blindOr fools supremeWalking in the fogOf Life.
With all Crystal Balls broken,We have to depend on the Lies,That politicians grow like weeds,All of Them determined to hide the Truth,Not allowing a flowering of its seeds.And as ‘The Masters of our Destiny’Plot their deadly, devil deals and deeds,Behind closed doors, like wild boarsOur Country and our future sadly bleeds.
Maybe that is why,We are always knocking,At Hell’s Gate.
Of thoughts and heartPlanting worded flowers,Not to fall apart.Poetic power,Unusually greatCan traverse Time,And still, captivate.
My thoughts to compareMy likes or dislikes,My doubts or cares,The Times that were,Past, Present, Future,I just don’t care,Living out of Time,In the Land of Anywhere.
Nor will it be takenDown, a road itCannot own,So many livesAre pure disasterBecause they neverKnew how to beTheir own masterAnd look beyondWhat is alreadyDone and known.
