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Pain, the nemesis of love, festers in its own wound;
forgiveness lay rotting in fields of hate. Umbilical link
and offspring severed—physical and spiritually.
If only it could be as the eagle that stirs the nest; stirs
that eaglets learn the reality of survival. Rather
being like that larvae of the beetle of human emotions
that bores in and devours its prey from within;
leaving an empty shell of what once was a spiritual being.
The symbiotic nature of nature balances into mutuality;
that of the nature of her human creature, with liberty
of decision, often ends in a quid pro quo scale—Buoyed.
The sea of human emotions sends frothing waves
splashing equally the shores of life’s times:
be it high or low tides—moon of misery wields
the trepid gravity of the pain of hurt.
Why must the sun set on the horizon of atonement;
leaving sorrow and repentance lingering beneath skies of hope;
darkening with the dread of a hurricane of vanity?
The ship of love seeks not recompense; just a safe harbor to
anchor and be moored in a berth of a wharf thereof.
Grant there will be a firmament of love above life’s waters;
and may the soaring dove avenge the devouring hawk.
