Sky of Love

We perish so freely—alert to partial death; and vision—is

So murky. But such life—is givin’ love; and such truth—a

Fountain Rock. Enflame a miracle—my precious swan.

For soul, a secret storm; and heart, a motion flame. Indeed,

Worsen not the hurt—a fragile rose. But breathe the light,

The sky of Love. And somewhere depth the mind, the cry

Of pearls. Thus aflight, a tender soul; and thus alive, a

Flaming Word. And solace, so dear, a rippled pond. In truth,

We perish so freely; thus, live the flame; soar the heart;

And script the waves. Else the hurt, a weeded field; and

Else the prose, a fallin’ void. Hence the voice, a scripted

Verse, an attic art, a spirit’s birth. And privy scars, the

Fuel of life, a forest fair, a mystic light. In truth, the love,

The vault of God, a mind to fly, a soul to prod.