from now on,
all poems will,
that yet reside inside,
shall be here inscribed

why?

the line between music, song, lustrous life and love is indifferent

do not misunderstand - indifferent is not meant as uncaring but more as undifferentiated and interwoven into a singularly

so oft lives de-track, de-tract as threads become frayed and
the dye color fades, but once loved, cold is an excised word
from life’s Merriam Webster rulebook

in all my pain and sadness the embrued, embered kernel
yet faint glows
off and on, even a glance somehow brings it back, for of all
life’s lessons learned in everything, loss and grief,
the single thread snakes back, and there is love in everything
and in every unborn scream and script

so a journey ends and commences
in the same locus and locale,

the quest;
search and seek that love seed*

for there is only love poetry