Love
is a beauteous thing
It overcomes evil
It forgives all sin

Man
cleaves to women
together
they embrace the end

Death
is an open door
step within
for truth and more

Time
is a fickle thing
it will run out
while your still standing

Love
is a beauteous thing
It destroys all evil
it cleans all sin

And love
I say again
overcomes all
there at the end

It’s in the linear plane
The one that buzzes
Directly above the brow
It’s heavy and foul
Sludge like and slow
Dense with no flow
It is unappealing in color
With a dull toxic glow
It must be rid of
By placing an amulet
Made of Amethyst stone
Upon the glabella
For many days in a row
Until a duplex conduit
Is understood between
Cosmos and soul

~~
Don't get me wrong, darling
Because that's exactly, I do not know how to say
However, what goes out of the home
Rivers, Mountains, Sea
Or beyond the horizon, Any call

You don't make a mistake
I'll be back to whom
So, for a moment, don't misunderstand me
That exotic flute, distant Kans grasses
Even from far away:
From the seashore, I have heard the echoes of another time

So don't misunderstand me, darling
They have relationships with, and you are like me
They are not devoid of love
I give you, borrow from them

For a moment, don't misunderstand me
I bring your pearl beneath the sea,
From the mountains the ancient forms,
The original earthy flavour,
A chunk of drifted white clouds from the autumn sky as a little boat

So, you don't misunderstand me
Where 'll I come back
Where 'll sing their song
Where to lose my soul,
Or will not come
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen

The greys and blacks
Are fighting again,
Despite an abundance
Of food and shelter.
The greys are malcontent,
And bigger, with increasing numbers.
They've declared a Jihad,
They're relentless;
And won't stop 'til they've
Occupied all the trees out front.
The trees in question aren't the issue;
Others have similar branches and fruits;
It's their belief system
Territory is everything;
It's their manifest destiny.

During a lull in fighting
They graze side by side,
Always wary of proximity;
But the greys know
Their tails are larger and thicker,
And they recognize the enemy.

I know better
Than interfere
With their shenanigans.
Oh, I could quell the activity,
Scare them for a while
Pelting stones and gushing water;
But they'll re-group, stronger,
Like ants,
Like us.
It's a conflict I can't fix.
They need to figure it out
On their own.

I dissected your poetry,
  read between the lines
    different than mine,
perhaps our sentiments
  don't exactly jive
 nor rhyme in their profundity,
dissimilar perspectives
   in verbosity's distinction
    as fantasies are vastly unique,
our dichotomy mutually exclusive
yet, we bleed the same colors
   as our spaces blur into each other