You try to fix

But not for everyone,I cannot really tell youWhat it takes to be a fan,But a certain luminosityAnd a dose of great sincerityWants to be passed on,Friendliness and BlessingsThat a poem leaves behind,Are like divine, heavenly colorsThat, so well, the spirit understands,In conjunction with the mind,And that speak to you and sooth you,As no other form…

At least,Some,Temporarily arrestThe pain around,Put your heart at rest,With deep melodious,Sounds.

But do we ever understand,Why they are just that way.We live in Time,That takes our Prime,Our thoughts, evolving too,What’s true for yesterday,Today may not be true.Unwanted changes come along,As Destiny is crude,What once beforeWas soft and good,Becomes for tears, a home,As some face life alone.And then we question,Back and forth,What truly are we now,The purpose…

Since you never stop talkingAnd giving wrong accounts,False and slimy politiciansOwe the Lied-to of the World,A very large amount.

As a moment of Love,If you are lucky enough,To come under its touch.

So much that we love,All consumed by Time,But a Flowing Rhyme,You cannot touch,For true Poetry,Has no MasterHas no Time.