Poetry that I wrote a little while ago |
Where Love is From I was once wandering through the woods venturing much further than I ever had before. The trees got dark, the branches thick leaving me not much desire to go on. It grew so dark my eyes could hardly see the branches clawing at my flesh the spiders crawling down my back the serpents slithering around my feet, all bidding me to return to where I'm from. And then, with one step I was cast into another world, one much different than the one I was just in. My feet were graced by lush green grass My skin blessed with the soothing warm of sunshine My lungs freed by a clean Spring air. A man met me there, all in white a plow nearby, pulled by a large white horse. He bid me welcome, a salutation of the kindest form. What is this place? I asked of him and with a smile he did respond This pointing at the expanse of plowed land is where Love is grown. Grown? I asked with much perplex As corn or tobacco or beans? Surely that is not where Love is from From the Earth it is. It comes in large plants, stalks thicker than the arm of a man, reaching taller than any house. How is it you harvest it, then? We do not. When the plant is ready, the seeds blow across the land, farther than the eye can see, blowing lazily along the Winds. That is where Love is from. |