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Poem

Unwrapping both a blessing and a curse, extracts	
Love’s essence painting souls and framing them abstracts.
 
Too brazen into Jung’s collective we were when,
Our fists were punching holes up through the floors of Heaven.
  
We knew the fools from those among the wise who cherish,
But that denying harlot Fate, had to be selfish.
   
Now under burden of this heavy and cruel loss,
Pain’s pressing pitch to blacken the abandoned cross.

Among the broken pieces that will fall this way.
The mausoleums that will be cap stoned today.
  
In paper coffins lay the letters of their last,
To reconcile this day, or others from the past.
 
Possessions that become departing gifts to friends.
A rotting, cold corpse they will be, when passed again.

Those stalking zombies out of reach and courting hate
Caressing defense of an unforgiving state.
 
Must they forget the lover’s pages bled in ink.
Escape in substance high, and falling drunk in drink.

As desperation quickly fills their beds with drones.
The futile chains attempts, when weakness is alone.

To look again to see the gift from ending’s split.
A testimony of a truth embracing it.
 
For what this life has taken, in return, it gave.
Event Horizons welcome us beyond the grave.

Some morsels kept out of the ruins of our dreams.
A loving Christ’s hands will to heal and stitching seams.

His wisdom and his patience walking me still slower.
His ways are guiding me, in these, the years to over.

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