A Tree and a Red Rose,
Pillars of society,
Communication grows,
Prose sustains our culture,
Poetry our pose,
As Dreamers and Abductors,
Of word, seduction grows
As feelings rightly flow.
Prose can tell long stories,
Of human interaction,
While Poetry finds Love,
The superior satisfaction.
There is no competition,
For the tools are quite the same,
Both are born from same affliction,
To purge the soul in vain,
And the writer’s life sustain.
What is it about Life, portrayedThat answers seen to always evade?
When lonelinessIs at its height,And Stars, converseWith mortals,About Love.
Truth has been murderedBy the very ones that said,They held Her, firmly,In their closed fist.
They seem to care,Warmth, music bear,Accompany you too.Their swaying, rhythmic music,Is like the morning dew,Refreshing like a new born song,That travels deep in you.
On which we rely,In our human darknessFor light and guidance,When all seems to failIn our lives,So fragile and paleSo easily, derailedOnce our tenuous happinessHas sailed,The Light of the MoonWill prevail.
That you must revisit and reliveA film that with you stayed,Because it said so much to youWas also, so well made!
