PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Difficult it is to write of love for the word and it's meaning is tainted by what I label upon it from my inner world, which is lost and clingy floating without direction in the depths of outer space. 

To pray love to another from the confines of my understanding of it then is it lust I wish to them, and the feeling of a temporary high of material gain, for that is my limited understanding of love.

The love I pray to my neighbor is that of God's awesome love, with all it's Wisdom and Understanding, the love that is beyond my comprehension for this love is vast and everlasting, I pray for my neighbors to find this love and for our souls to be cleansed in it.

I dream of freedom in this fallen world, of sickness, violence and confusion out of which we all squirm for droplets of truth to quench our wicked tongues so that one day we may speak of good and righteousness to one another.

I doubt this love in substitution for my isolation for it has become my abode, the comfort it presents to me is charred exquisitely to give the scent of familarity that breeds so well to my animal mind of which I have become accustomed. 

Presence I dream of, and what it would be like, to walk in assurance not to walk for delight, for my strivings seem to be in vain for it is for the wind, clasping my hands to gain nothing, missing the mark I sin. 

Let me set my eyes, ears and heart on your breath lord from which your guidance may direct me, when I am not with you lord my world is of no hope and without light.