Money is not love
And...
Love is not money
But...
Time will still hum
While...
Nature remains cunning

Duplicity

Broken humanity will often falter,
As it ponders which mold to fill in,
Ponders what it must alter,
Which path it must begin.

It is a trembling, cowering bird that hides
Within each of our hearts,
Somewhere in a dark corner it abides,
Made up of many broken parts.

We have the role of nursing the bird,
Bringing it back to its purest condition,
There is a fire that must be stirred, 
A stunning, unbridled and pure rendition.