What have i been missing?
Humor, light and another's love?
And the love of self in selfless love.
Why do i perpetually weave seeds
of poison vine
Through the skin of my crimson heart
To fill with death the empty chambers of fear?
Why do i paint in bright colors and bead
the shell of a spoiled fruit that is black
and the toxins permeate all that it touches?
Pity and fear.
They prevent the apple or the pear
From being what is truly sacred:
An alter to the beauty of the world
And an open window to the souls of light.