What if love was contagious
Like some sort of disease
Affecting all religions and races
Bringing the world to its knees

Where a cure is never found
Where no one even tries
A disease that for years sticks around
Contaminating all of mankind

From a kind word being said
To a hug when it's needed the most
In hopes it quickly spreads
With everyone being the host

What if love was a disease
And it was highly contagious
No need to put us all in quarantine  
Because love is a disease that would save us

The pinewoods appear to be in -
a frantic search , having no knowledge of -
sky nor earth
Port Lake lies in some reflective dream ,
receiving drops of salvation in sky born -
schemes
Alas , stubborn poet , let loose thy empirical
tethers whilst running naked among men* ...

Stained unborn at a midnight birth
as dark elopes to depths unknown
scraping the hold on and hold ups
rooted at the loath of a waning moon
coated with love inside the bony trail
blushing to the aged soul that quest
resting on the shine that warms and drowns
like a titanic embarking on seasoned seas
flavoured in a breeze of forever
beauty of life and nature shades pureness
shimmering an essence of aliveness
the conquest of oneness within awakes
and when the clouded days fade
laughter spin and dreams seek
life becomes a supreme possibility
of amazement and adventures
life becomes a highway of unsaved lullabies
where a stare is a momentum of scare
spares of alternate crying, flying, prying
blues and tribulations always get better
summing existence to a worthwhile measure

Poetry is the keyhole between the -
body politic and wanton government* ...