What is it?
If not merely a play,
On a fool's mind.
Hate,
I deem it fleeting,
As the pain of a broken limb,
Lingering yet fading.
Grateful,
I should be,
I wish I could always be,
I almost never am.
Longing,
For things I don't understand,
For a beautiful end,
That will never come true.
Always two faced,
Are the things of great significance,
I wish to contemplate,
Their volatile existence.
Thus again...
Love,
More than that of lovers,
Is those of blood bound,
Or ones of divine grace.
Hate,
Whom without love can't be,
Burning within some,
A promise of destruction.
The courage I can't muster,
To say what I want to say,
For fear of no return,
From a misleading pathway.
I've no wish of falling,
Or to tear things apart,
I've no wish of following,
All the whispers of my heart.
May light be shed onto,
The day that we all wait for,
When you, I and they merge,
Into an entity of eternal peace.
To be grateful for,
To stop longing for,
A beautiful fall,
Into an oblivion;
Of things that truly matters.
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