We water it daily when we discriminate,
The permeating foliage of hate.
And It continued to grow,
Always feeding off the dying lovers’ sorrow

We cultivated the land beneath its roots,
With a dichotomy of false hue,
We made way for the dark shoots
Ignorantly and blindly with not an ounce of a clue

The foliage destroyed the shrubbery of love
And It razed the home of the peaceful dove

It began to reach out of sight,
High up above, and the hatred took flight
And day insidiously became night

It blotted out the once blue sky
The light struggled to shine through,
And the hope of a new garden had already begun to die

With ill intentions, we tried to trim it
With a dogmatic shear,
We said, “Join us, not them, lest the foliage consume you and all you hold dear”

Still, higher it climbed -
Heavenward near.
Snatching away everything that we hold dear,
And still we fed it with a callous fear
Until it became too late
And upon the dying land, lay our fate.

In darkness we did grieve,
Blaming each other
For that hopeful day,
We blindly threw asunder,
And now all bereave

We belatedly now see our blunder,
The love we forgot, the united we did plunder,
And the compassion that we pushed deep under.

If once together we had came,
Armed with a singular burning loving flame,
And Burnt away the Hate.
We shalt have woven in time -
The foliage’s deserved fate.

And If United we had tended -
The garden of compassion,
We shalt have the foliage its fate rendered.
Love would then be a reality and not something to be remembered.
But we sharpened our shears with Hatred,
And not Compassion, Tolerance and Love
And nowhere in sight,
Could we still see the remnants of the peaceful Dove.

And in darkness our hearts grow colder
And compassion was no longer to be found
He hath aeons back retreated over the yonder

And forevermore we shall look back in darkness,
And see, that with shears laced in love – the foliage would be a carcass
A winter shrub in all its starkness,
A **** that was easily plucked,
But it is too late, the land is dry and from it all loving humanity was ******.

The desolate, deep foliage encumbered forest
Bereft of care, not a shimmer of hope left amongst it

The last root of the rose is gone,
Hatred has taken over,
And it has finally won
And the last seed of solicitudes days are finally done.

Today I miss you,
In fact, I always do
Outside the sky is blue,

But so is my heart
It longs for our start

The Dove and the Swan
Together, United, finally as one

The void is there,
And soon apart my heart it shall tear

And render Swan an abstraction of a man
And Dove’s ocean will stay and empty dam

But in due time,
Dove can flutter into my arms,
And I can embrace her as mine
The void will be no more
And again, life will flourish on the ocean shore

The outside world can disappear,
With the closing of a door,
The muffling of an ear

It’s a small little space,
But it is my safe place

Many books cover my desk,
Papers with scribbles of thoughts,
Seemingly grotesque.

In one particular book I find,
A gathering of words to comfort my mind
It speaks of an outside world not known to me,
A world filled with a compassionate love that is carefree

I wonder if it could ever be so,
Should I take the risk and attempt to know?
I ask the other book and it tells me no,
A world awaits filled with intolerance and guns with hatred filled ammo

Which is fiction and which is not?
Perception makes the one the other,
And in my mind resides the words beneath the hardcover.

And if found in the world of intolerance,
I will try and love my brother.
And when this becomes too hard,
I will return to my small little space,
And find more words
This time however,
I may just read, and sleep
forever