song of love

There is an eloquence in love
that dove-like soars lofty and true,
strive as we might to capture it,
to entrap it tattered like a pinned
butterfly morbid in its lost beauty.

I have known as many have
what it is like to shrivel dessicated
beneath an angry sun, sullenly
grasping at a hope that rose so far
beyond my weary withering limbs.

Yet even that pain is purposeful,
pursuing a being that meaningfully
rips away the pins that prickly bind,
the mortar that your broken heart
to a man unworthy did cement.

Freedom is more than the cracking
of shackles that deny our steps,
more than the ruin of fetid fears
that leave us impotent and scarred,
abandoned by enervating doubt.

Freedom is the expansion of the heart
imparting a kindness and ageless beauty
that ascends beyond the darkest past,
casting glorious a light that brightly
each sound, each flowing color imbues

with a hue and hope
my voice longs
to forever sing.

salt lake city 19 may 2022

Image by Schwoaze from Pixabay

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