Thru millenia souls have sought,
searching for that something,
searching for that which cannot be bought,
Whenever they found it
the sky lit up,
greeting them with love,
giving them peace in their thought.
Like flies that glow,
deep in the dark,
it lights up,
shining the way for those who on this journey embark.
for It is compassion,
it is pain,
it is that something which can bring down the rain.
might be that our purpose is to love,
capturing true essence of that one other,
as i have found all the above.
This evening something made me see,
that without your essence,
i just could not & would not
this is an enriching, flowing read! Simply lovely!
Thos last lines in this lovely poem truly catches the heart. well done!
Love is it.
That is,not dependent on all that passes,moment by moment by moment.
To find that unconditional joy,love,freedom is our life purpose.
Or should i say, to simple be what we always already are, in this mystery of living.
I ENVY THOSE WHO ENVY ME
I envy the flies that glow,
Their purpose is easily seen.
I envy the humble abode,
Of a poet's mind, supreme.
I envy the songwriter whose songs are heard,
Whose songs enter the very souls of beings.
I envy the sun that sets, for its work is done fast,
Eternally burning with its entity.
I envy the occupations that prosper,
Calling more into their subsidy.
I envy the Devil, for he masters Pain,
In turn, he masters Love for the rest of eternity.
I return, alone, to the cretaceous shell of my mind,
And I know all who see, will envy me...
I loved him...
But through every condition,
he did not love me.
He told me once,
In all actuality,
he was just being nice,
by trying, pretending,
telling me every little lie.
and in the end I still loved him,
unconditionally did I.
"Who knows this love?"
Who knows what love truly is?
Who understands the meaning of give and take
Or how to patiently wait for intimacy;
To get to be open with someone who knows it.
Being happy with someone who chose this,
Who knows her or his way to be
In love with you or me.
Who knows what love looks like?
Who can see it day or night,
Through pain and strife,
And still sustain, maintain and create life?
Who's sight is keen enough to keep up
With changing relations and changing hearts,
And still start their days by looking in the face
Who knows how love tastes?
Who knows how to create a dish so sweet..
Complete with all the fixings,
Adding , mixing, dipping little fingers into
And onto the rims of savory flavored ecstasy
And garnish it with a kiss?
Who knows how to do this?
Who knows this love?
Who knows this love that never questions,
never gives the impression of disappointment
all because a day went bad.
Who know this love that does it's deed,
that feeds that need in me to be wanted when
I feel unwanted.
Who knows this love????
Who knows this love,
this unconditional love,
this purely spiritual,
truly mental love
that's been touched from above
in as much as this love is...this love.
Who knows this love?
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Do people really love their spouse unconditionaly or do they place conditions on their love?
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Can love be truly ' unconditional'?Literature is strewn with 'unconditional' love- can this really be, can we just love without reciprocity and understanding, without a return for our passion and persistence?
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