If I did not notice the Silence,
I would not know varieties of Sound
If I did not know of barren desolation,
I would not meet with Wonder the Nature of The Mother
If not blankets of numb Paralysis take Me
I could not feel Elation of Sensation
If not He, then not She
Duties of Duality is precurse to Selfless Compassion
To Change the World, One must know the Scales of Balance that Mediate the Self, once in Centerline, the Soul can Shine a brilliant Intention that Manifest in Action an Energy of Transformation aligned with Earth. Our Prayers be Heard and appreciated, accepted in Heart of the World shall cometh forth a prosperity and Worth Divine for You and I
So all the Children will Understand Intuitively, merging Mind Eternally. Destiny entwined with Currents We Ride, You decide the Destination.

Calling Spring North,
Chirping buds to burgeon,
Teetering in rain that turns to sleet,
Clutching black, wet branches,
Feathers puffed against the chill,
Cocked heads seeking sleepy worms,
Side glancing carefully the neighbor's cat.

These red-breasted birds
Chortling in the morning sun
Precurse Spring,
Sing cheer to me.

Though I, no longer young,
My Autumn just begun,
Winter coming on,
Life's seasons only last a while.

I have a Savior,
Who has gone before,
Endured cold Winter's death,
Calls me to Spring,
Beckons me to Summer....

Conditionality (All love is conditional)

All love is conditional.
Even unconditional, a state in and of itself, is conditional.

So many love in silence, or unrequited,
or fear expressing the finest emotion, less rejected,
And precurse it by commencing with,
If.
And that is the worst condition of all.

When she whispers I love you,
And I ask each time, Why,
She answers me the same,
Just because....

And as I ponder that, I realize,
That is the only answer in the universe of words
that is without even a hint of jasmine, of cinnamon,
or  conditionality.

Happily, I have proven myself wrong, yet once more...

8:48am
June 2

that’s how you like your poetry,
That’s how you would like everything,
No stress, no test, easy on the breast,
but short and sweet has no protein,
won’t build your bones, quite contrary,
the poem that doesn’t make you think,
it’s just a cavity, a precurse to self~decay
a drip dripping in just another day of you evaporating