Teardrops, raindropsof a poet's heart.....
go unheard and unseen
but for those who understand.
Are we weak? Those seen weak, for sensitivity.
Is there anything to teach?
Is there anything to change?
Teardrops, raindrop sof a poet's heart
go unheard and unseen
but for those who will hear.
Ears of the heart,
Senses of the heart,
Whatever force fuels this life- connect.
Feel my call, our pain.
Allow the cleansing rain.
Can life be warm and gentle one day?
If only our hearts call could reach you,
Universe...God-force- whatever you are.
If only you could hear our tears,
If only tears could be heard,
Ringing louder, like bells
If only you could hear
These stinging, ringing
Tears of pain.
The years of torture
These dimensions of suffering
Man's inhumanity to man
And innocent animal kin alike
The dimension of suffering
Caught in time
Of suffering physically
Where all experience becomes focussed
To that single point of pain.
Joy and pain
this endless cycle.
I long to rest.....
The grass is soft and gentle
Beneath my head.
Life can be beautiful.
And life can be kind.
But life is not kind.
It feeds upon itself.
But maybe that's just the way it is,
Was meant to be
and always will be.
But if thats all there is to this life...
I deny it.
I despise whatever made it that way.
I will loathe that which allows cruelty
From the depths of my very soul
My anger and my passion, this dormant fuel
Waits for the day,
The day I have the key.