No drought in Love

Do you believe in hope, my friend?
Do you believe in hope!
It’s not beyond belief
Or beyond relief
I tried to send that message
In the bottle
But I didn’t know if you received it
I hoped you would
You didn’t know
On the other end
It was sealed
Open it up
Inside is a note
A few words of love
Meaning so much
In so few
In and out
Like dew for a doe
Lapping it up
Every last drop
What was inside?
Not water
But you took it as such
Every last word
With meaning
You understand
There won’t be a drought
In the bottle
There won’t be a drought
In this Love
In the bottle
That travelled across the sea
The water was gone,
But the source still
Was there
And ever
And always
Until the end
Which is
 Just the beginning
Of time
To the ticking heart.

Equipped with Love

Don’t despair,
Care!
In a life
Where people
Are attempting
To diminish meaning
In their ignorance
There is but one answer
And that is Love!
Genuine Love!
Love of peace
Love of neighbour
Love of earth
Love!
It’s not cynical
To Love
It is not pointless to Love
Love within your heart
Towards yourself
Allow it to reflect out
Accept the Love
From above
To ensure
Be assured,
You are well equipped with Love

Beast

The beast was stunted
In the growth of the mind
That could not find
The place
Where those before him lay
The history lost
Only one beast left
Where did he come from?
Only the memory of himself
Nothing to pass on
Nothing to be passed on.
How did this happen?
Why was he a beast?
What’s in a name,
For any other name
Would not be
As bitter…..
As brittle…..
Seemed so strong
But most fragile of them all
The beast
On his own
Where is the beauty?
How does it come from within,
When all that surrounds
Is dried up?
Drought
Is the soul of the beast
Dried up too?
Questioning etiquette
Treatment of another
Not knowing how
Because alone
Never taught
How will the beast
Learn?
How will the beast
Fight instinct,
While at the same time
Embrace it?
Isn’t at least part of him
Part of him?
Or does the beast need
A complete rejection of self?
To put on a new exterior
To match the possibility
Of a new interior
Not inferior
Not an imposter
But a more true
Inner self
That ever existed
In the history of himself
If there is a history now,
What will it be made of?
How does the beast move forward?
The beast can continue
To devour
To waste
Everything in sight
Or intrinsically
Perhaps maybe
Somwhere within, at least
There may be a purity
Not yet found
And innocence within
Offer up the incense beast
only he himself can