The Matchless Treasure

Away from sadness, away from the wars and blood, away for a while, away but not too far I wrote this poem so that the spirit would cheer a bit and so burdens are softened for a while.

Love is the song we never get tired of,

The melody that keeps us awake all night crooning,

The shadows of the past that keep us dreaming,

The thrilling idea of immortality,

It is the sweet honey we need every day,

The sip of the beauty of life,

It’s the sick rose that we find a cure for.

It is not consistent with what we want,

But with what is meant.

Love happens when all doors and windows are locked;

It happens when we no longer have air;

It is the ticking

That reminds us of everything syrupy,

Of everything dying.

It is hidden in the heart,

But never gets rusty.

It gets older;

It gets stronger;

It becomes fearless,

Stands against the walls,

Against the misfortune of each.

It tastes brand new

Every time it’s tried.

It sticks with you until you breathe no more;

Then it happens all over again:

Everything locked; no air.

It is not the crimson of rainbow

Nor is it the crystal nor the diamond nor the gold.

It is more precious;

It glows when it’s gloomy;

It smoothes when burdened;

It is the purist of everything;

The purifier of all senses.

It tickles the heart;

It tickles the soul;

It tickles the dream and turns it on.

It waits not for you to react;

It waits not for you to respond;

It takes your breath and gives you life.

It shows not mercy;

It shows not defeat;

It lasts

And lasts

And lasts

Until it takes life out of you

And ‘gifts’ you Eternity.

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