Grief and Solace: Tomorrow Resists

Love for humanity, not ourselves - a prose poem.

Every wayward latitude is
Sedately treasured,
A tolling of the choicest bells
Registering a doomed
And disjointed revelry.
Painful apprehension streaks,
And one’s instincts clamor
For ageless poise.
A role must grant
That serene and undeniable ecstasy -
An actionable worth
Of focus and genius which is
Second to none.

Just aim that sturdy beam -
Hoist that truth
And enter a new realm.

Invest in a principle
Known as miracles.
Your belief
In the days ahead
Is to entertain
An amazing ownership -
One absolute truth

You must give love
To receive it.
Self love is never a treasure

It eats away at everything
We womb and worship!