weaves a verse,
of a fairy tale curse.
a moment’s rhyme,
over so much time.
mark the path,
of love’s endearment
cutting a swath,
of tears and pain,
and broken hearts,
finally, then, we part.
Stark in the reality–
Sad and free,
and thankful too,
As we expand
it matters not
what life we’ve kept.
Each does bring
a joyous refrain…
sparks of light,
at highest realm,
from where we leapt.
I feel the nature of the beast coming to cleave
the least of me, my human body.
Therein I dwell until my spirit ascends from its portal
of worldly goods.
A cumbersome facet of this test
to stay the path until there is rest.
By this birthright King or shepherd
matters not upon the earthly road.
Divinely seeking whatever the charge,
We go into the mist with confidence
that our spirit is the foundation we hold as truth.
Each day brings its joy and fervor
each day has a balance,
not to see dark but of to fight the deepening chasm
opening in so many souls.