C

Lover, do we question love,
That thing that is our bind?
Do we wonder at its purpose
Or the spurning of its mind?
Lovely, do you weep beyond
The hurt that once was lain?
So soon yet seen so far away
By those who've lost their pain...
Yet, here, love claims to give renewal
To those whose bones are dry,
But what does motivate the thing
That feels no pain, nor dies?
What trust must we then tend to it?
What time and life confess?
What hate and rage bequeath from it?
What less than lonely death?
Give all, and never less than all.
Give trust and life entire
For love, The Great Destroyer,
Sends all pain in to the Fire.

Half Moon

Hell, or some place of  the same,
Is no right place to seek or find
Angelic signs or peaceful lives,
Insightful minds or pretty names.
This still is true, but some blue moons
Seek eyes to lay their claim to.

Take
Care, An Overwhelming Insight might hate everlong
As some, or most, before have - still! -
Regardless whom was wrong.
But hope regales its victories,
He whose been silent long.

But, what a thought! Recounting pain;
One should be glad and joyous!
These Times are fair and few between,
So, leave the past its grave;
In the face of gentle beauty! Precious
Hearts lead not to astray.