Ash Nazg
Life is but a loop of repeated emotions and events,
a ring. The hope of love thought eternal, the promise of
a lifetime. Many scared by the power of something so
small and yet metaphysically enormous. One within
another within many others, Life is coiled upon itself,
springing hither and fro, tossing lives like seeds at sowing.
Planting roots of love repeated again and again.
Darkness falls when love of self is the source of
power, the fuel to the ring. Darkness threatens, we stray,
as if on the edge of a knife, tarry but a little and all
will fail. All seek an ignorant decay, headed to the end,
willing to leap at the catalyst of moments. Is love,
true love, so far away?
Poem #33
Published
Hitchhiker 