When dreams were young,
And hearts were spun,
With threads of golden glow,
And happiness just filled the air,
Like none would ever know.
So very long ago.
Now Time has worn,
Lives now are torn
And Love is nowhere near,
All that remains,
An empty frame
With no one’s name
And one perpetual tear.
Death is so final,The pain, evermore.Like in a dark room,You stumble and fall,You look for a window,But hit a blocked door.
Is such a tenuous One,We negate our own insanity,Disregard our own mortality,And then, think that we have Won!
Empty handedI will leaveLife’s sound.Love,A Swan,So white, so deepSo pure!It totally escapedImmaculate, untouched,Love’s holy Ground.
What is bad, now is good,All acceptance of Taboos,Immorality gets prize,Dishonesty, no surprise,Hard to witness All of this,As the fundamentals of society,Are dismembered, don’t exist,For today, anything goes,We have certainly hit lows,Doves rejected, worship Crows.
To the idealistic poetLittle does it matter,The necessity,For expressing, feelingsInner thoughts,The opportunityOf getting readIs all that matters!Spiritual WellnessHas no price,Poetry helps someTo continue on,And not shatter.
But that’s what writing’s done for me,When I write, I’m totally Free, I’m me.
