Only Forgive

Forgiveness is the greatest act of love;
there’s nothing near to it’s equal;
embodiement of wisdom from above;
to allow each offender; a sequel.

How do we answer the words, “I’m sorry”?
Perhaps, you had best not ask me;
though wishing they’d commit hari-kari;
I’d

Words Softly Spoken

So many people just love to speak out;
they always have something to say;
unfortunately, they don’t say it, but shout;
letting no other’s thoughts in their way.

Words softly spoken; the prelude to Wisdom;
you need not lift up your voice;
much of our thoughts have devolved

A Little Bit Of Me Died

My world  won’t be the same again;
I couldn’t make it so, if I tried;
I wouldn’t know how to make it begin;
for a little bit inside of me died.

My personal book of life’s pages; stripped;
some chapters inside it were gone;
the book

Bitter, The Memories

I still remember a conversation I had;
many lifetimes, far in the past;
and others, too; both happy and sad;
of a future we both thought would last.

We seemed the Master’s perfect pair;
a blend of endless devotions;
we didn’t count on reality’s despair;
and its

Lord, Help Me

Lord, help me to be a blessing;
to each one I meet, today;
their souls, my energy caressing;
may your light show them a way.

Don’t allow my temper to weaken;
no one deserves my rebuff;
permit all my love to deepen;
for each one has burden enough;

Grant

Alive

How does it feel to be empty;
no longer carrying a load?
It really doesn’t tempt me;
it makes me want to explode.

It’s a sign of a lack of purpose;
no longer having a reason;
it might seem alright on the surface;
but only for a short

A Seed Of Love

Many attempt, their love to define;
with sweet scents and musical notes;
others use dinners followed by wine;
and most cleverly devised quotes.

Most, unaware how love is planted;
a seed, sown deep in the mind;
or how it can grow and is granted;
by such things, love is defined.

New Love

Life’s Summer has gone, long ago;
and Autumn passed by, too;
I feel the effects of the Winter’s snow;
love’s warmth, no longer my view.

Perhaps its the cold of loneliness;
I just don’t really know;
my writing; shifted to poetry;
like the rain turns into

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