Souls To Dust, Love To Power

The love of the heart is the longing of souls The greed in the mind is nothing but dust One is desire for unconditional love The other a temporary power. Poetry is the language of souls The footsteps of those long turned to dust The act of creating is one of love Pages scribed with transcendent power. The body is but a prison for the soul We all will return to our creation of dust The inkstains of life contained in our love Proof of a higher power. Under my skin lives a primitive soul Capable of so much more than my etchings in dust Shining forth the light of love Claimed by the submission of power.