Sickle to Soul

A sun has touched earth, fuel has flooded souls, mind to

mind, and heart to core. Passion is drenched in Paradise,

clouds are speaking prose, even days are mingling

diamonds. I come to love, reaching of old, flaming near

lagoons. Every thought is preaching, leaving behind

death, surging for a future. I love her as if breath has

disappeared, knitting flair to quilt. Something has

moved a fortress, where doors have flung open, and light

has birthed a passion. I pause, muse intention, and weep

soundly. What is this force, ever a ghost, fraught with

life? I ask, axe to oak, sturdy for love. Our dearest source,

infuse the dark, and spark a light. Else we perish, sullen

for treasure, desperate to excel. My precious swan, pause

and ponder, hear and listen, imbue a soul. Study to show

self approved; indeed, absorb and be found; for love is

but a fraction of wisdom, and knowledge is sickle to soul.