We each must create our love
A carousel around the sun
Hurling through the vast abyss
Where whirling, twirling motions preside,
This earth obliges none its favor
But air to breathe and ground to stride.
There lies, surely, in each heart
A noble portion set apart
Wherein passions coincide
To cherish love beyond the lust
That fashions love the sire of greed.
But this world suffers naught
Of pride or greed or lust or love,
Where notice begs the barest hint -
Nor heeds the impassioned cry,
Indifferent of all mortal call.