A Cross Ticks
Anguish twisting in winds of torture
Cannot allow red clouds of anger to
Replace the sweet contentment
Our love has sought by
Swearing eternal devotion
To each other or to
Incite or invite
Change by sorrow
Each millisecond of eternity
Now or then ticking on
Despite the sweet seed of glory
Eternally impassionate and
Adamant in its unending
Vicarious understanding
Of ever daunting tasks
Remaining to be attempted
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