There it stands the night it scoffs at the fool.
See he is the fool So he says to be counted wise.
The pain of life scratchy as wool.
To holpen to his demise.
Of a weary folly the intransigent wax unto yearning.
The emotional warbling of a bitter soul.
As the addict is meant for social atrocity the burning.
The wellspring of light is still not swallowed whole.
That kindness is the way to heal the mind.
And all love shall save the world.
The darkness with in shall go to shine.
As the intrinsic dolt to be unfurled.
Yet as that unfurling comes to taint the power.
To strengthen the weakened will.
Love comes again to seetheth in joy the hour.
Light ever flows and flows brighter still.
Poetry
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