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What is my purpose for being
In a world that I find quite insane?
If given but a glimpse of Fate's scroll
I might know if my birth was in vain

Baffling questions rob me of peace . . .
Why am I here, and why at this hour?
To kindle Love's torch for the lonely ?
To give strength to weak men who cower?

Am I here to sharpen the sword
When the battle's about to be lost?
Might I calm and appease the tempest
As the frigate's being helplessly tossed?

Am I destined to be the beacon
For a traveler who has lost his way
When Life drops its mantle of darkness,
And neither sun nor moon lends its ray?

Perhaps I'm to be the salvation
Of some fool hurrying toward Hell's gate;
But each day seems so ordinary ---
I've no glorious feats  to relate

Will the answer be found in my poems?
When into my soul I dip my pen,
Might I alter the course of the world
Causing Heaven to shout out Amen?!

O please, pardon this bit of folly ---
Now and then I must create reprieves
From Life's ridiculous mandates
To escape the tangled web it weaves

And so I still find myself pondering
What Life has kept so well concealed:
Its mysteries, conundrums and puzzles,
And my purpose . . . yet to be revealed!
A darkness hovered over me  
Like a mourning widow's veil,    
But I knew Love could dispel such gloom  --  
(I'd read that in a fairy tale)

In my loneliness I despaired,
Awaiting my prince and his kiss;
Then doubt and fear merged with loneliness . . .  
Could Love's bridge span such an abyss?

Though caught in the grips of darkness
I still sought salvation's light,
And while Fate scoffed at my brazenness
Hope's hallowed flame kept burning bright

And then came that glorious moment
The hand of Fate could not subdue;
My dormant heart awoke to Love's kiss,
Proving fairy tales do come true!

Awake at last, I savored Life
With a sweetness I'd never known;
Love marched in and swept me off my feet,
Trampling  seeds of woe Fate had sown

But Fate always claims victory ---
This Love was not mine to keep;
Bitter is the song of loneliness,
Once again, it lulls me to sleep
Life has dealt harshly with me at times  
Throughout the passing years,
But with Love to guide me through each trial,
There was no need for tears

Though wealth never sought my company
Nor on my footpath tread,
The treasure of Love belonged to me,
So not a tear was shed

How many dreams ended on a heap,
Hewn by Fate's reckless shears!
But I had Love to encourage me  . . .
I gave no thought to tears

Then a dark cloud hovered overhead --
Love had abandoned me;
Now, ever since that heart-wrenching day,
My tears flow endlessly
As night falls it brings a foreboding -
A sinister omen of fear;
What will I do when the clock strikes twelve,
When it's midnight and he's not here?

Each tick of the clock seems to mock me,
How do I flee its taunting jeer?
A starless mantle of black and gray
Steadily falls . . . and he's not here

And I plead,  but will God hear my prayer,
Or into my heart ****** a spear?
The hour hand of the clock slowly crawls
Toward midnight . . . and he's not here

Has the fount of mercy stopped flowing?
My cup remains devoid of cheer;
I brace myself for doom's messenger . . .
Midnight arrives . . . and he's not here

Each night the clock eerily echoes
The ****** of a drama so drear,
Repeating over and over again
Not here . . . not here . . . not here . . .
Why do we allow Love to taunt us
With its fickle yet enticing ways?
Why does a faded Love still haunt us,
Even though we set those dreams ablaze?

Love has such an inflated ego,
But for that we must all bear the blame;
As soon as Love beckons, off we go,
Being drawn like a moth to a flame

Why haven't we the will to resist
What we know to be deceptive lies?
Why is it that foolish hearts insist
On toying with the risks of surprise?

And yet the answers, or lack thereof,
Will not change what I know I must do:
I'll make sure my doormat says "Welcome, Love,
My door is always open to you!"
While seeking the best of Life's offerings,
We tend to overlook the simple things --
The rose's essence that fills us with awe,
The first daffodil that braves winter's thaw

A fledgling's ventures are deemed simple things,
But how grand a sight when they spread their wings
And take to the air on their maiden flight,
Soaring and darting like wild beams of light

A night bird may chant just a simple tune,
But lovers lying 'neath the refulgent moon
Sense the enchantment in that divine hour,
And soon Love's voice flaunts its seductive power

With what magnificence the setting sun
Makes its grand departure when day is done;
A display worthy of admiration,
Just as the moon . . . a poet's inspiration

Among the simplest, yet most cherished things
Are the jewels of a poet's imaginings;
And Love, precious Love that gives Life its worth
Grants us a faint glimpse of Heaven on Earth

Whatever your preference, let us lay claim
To Life's awesome gifts . . .  too many to name;
Your caste matters not - wealth or poverty,
Life's simplest, yet most precious things are free

So let us keep watch with vigilant eyes,
For Life's true wealth often wears a disguise;
From a branch he calls home, the robin sings,
For he knows the value of simple things
That Love is heaven no one can deny,
But heaven proves to be a lofty goal,
For Love has shown that it can cheat and lie,
Causing our world to spin out of control

But frivolous Love is better than none,
(You need only ask a love-famished heart)
Though viewpoints may clash, when all's said and done
The heart's decisions are not always smart

Without Love, life will go on as before,
The rising sun will announce the dawn;
And when the moon paces their bedroom floor
The aggrieved hearts simply cry out "Begone!"

And without Love seasons still come and go,
Callous Spring comes strewing her flowers;
Oddly, Autumn's leaves, trampled 'neath the snow
Chronicle many a heart's ill-fated hours

Though frivolous Love may briefly appease
Passion's hunger that gnaws at the heart,
Be warned! Spring's lilacs that dance in the breeze
Also captivate . . . . . and then soon depart

And so goes the story of plans and schemes ---
Frivolous Loves that have failed the test;
But such Love must remain part of our dreams . . .
The search for perfect Love is a fool's quest
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