I was sitting in a downtown cafe,
looking for the words I wanted,
listening to other people’s lives,
fits and starts, dribs and drabs.
O, what stories I could imagine.
O, what stories could I imagine?
of these people and their lives;
the difference a single change, an
opening, taken or missed, makes.
The difference between a question
or statement with the same words,
written in different order, parsed
to dictate their final punctuation.
All things I know, need reminders,
when I focus to paint, write, create.
I will remember as I invent, I want
to tell stories, to make statements,
questions others will know when
they see my pieces, where I hope
to show love creates walls which
join us, as the walls of our house.
Many doors to enter by, defined,
maybe by geography or purpose,
opening into or from any season.
Inside, the walls of love lead to
many hallways to myriad rooms.
If we hate, all doors stay locked,
Without any last-minute I’m sorry
unless you find only love within.
With such love, sorry inadequate.
Welcomed everywhere we enter,
allowed to walk up any hallway.
Inside, love opens all areas larger
than the outside. If locked outside,
we’ll need to go away, start again.
So few feel what’s needed to enter,
you may see inside, empty, lonely,
losing a fight with nature, time, yet
always more doors to more rooms.
Peace is Purpose, Nonviolence is Strength, Diversity is Unity, Empathy is Empowerment
Please, leave a comment and let me know what you think.
See more of my creative offerings and opinions at: