Being

The being of a man or woman it’s not

Behold the being I’d love to love.

A being yearns for love

Love that fulfills never unchanging

That does not depart upon the darkness of the soul befalling.

When there is tearing pain of departure

there is none but the menial recourses.

A wayward path is not pleasing in its fruit,

however pleasurable to the wandering eye,

Of a Soul whose buds never lingered on the

Love that’s so Real.

old-letters-436502_960_720

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s