Our life-tree has its notches
Where Destiny carves its own spheres.
We try to protect our Circle,
Out of self-preservation and fear
But who can control, the Future, unknown,
Where all. will some day disappear.
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Beautiful Roses,
By your thornsThat life is sad,And to pain born,The more you loveThe more you haveTo lose,The more heartsCan be torn,And if you’ve never lovedOr been loved,You’ve never lived, at all.
So much of the Beast,
As we become more violent machines,How come we still think,We can handle real Life,And everything that goes with it?
Flat,
Or an outdoor mat,Indifference sets in,A moody spat with yourself,Hardly reacts,Nothing seems to count,Except disillusionment,And you don’t want to accept,The realization that,Nothing or no one to love,Projects a transparent image,Of emptiness,That you can’t pick up.
How could I not love you?
Your gifted heart,Your every moment,A work of Art.
Love never gets old,
The more to hold.Love fulfills your world,Red Roses and Oceans pearled,The waves of Time, undisturbed.Love is Love,Our deepest emotion,Without it we perishIn Time’s lonely motion.
A Poet’s home
Where all living beautyAnd endless possibilitiesExist,But where the impossibleIs sadly, embodiedBy a pen less and closedFist.