In a world of faux and soul,
The former live to gain favor;
The latter to live fully.
The foes lack soul:
Life is a strain to impose, force the will, in hopes of some
kind of relief
that will never come
from that tactic.
Sinewy necked and sweating, teeth gritting grimaced all that.
The soulful align to remind each other
The best that can be accomplished in the faux world
is to clutch at straws.
Night time, heads on pillows,
Love embraces the soulful, refreshes, reinforces connections
intangible but more solid than a mountain.
c.2014jeanosullivan
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1 comment:
Nice poem. Signed, a reader
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