Traversing life, a path long and twisting.
Pitfalls and elevations filled with elation
and sorrow; each tomorrow unfulfilled
has not yet been given to bear.
It is there that the seed is planted. Sometimes
greed and selfishness become the power
that drives hearts and imparts the anguish
that becomes inevitable. A banquet table gone to waste
with nary a taste of life’s finest treasures.
Pleasures come with their share of pain
that burrows deeply, furrowing brows
and disavowing all promises once declared.
Forever becomes ‘right now’ and futures
are only nurtured in the last breath that is drawn.
Love is imperfection, a static direction
that does not follow dictates. It exasperates
and deflates, infiltrates this lighter-than-air existence.
It offers resistance to the natural order
of how it is thought to be. Never manipulated;
it can not be stipulated by demand
nor by expectation. Love is as love was meant to be.
Not possessed; only it can embrace.
It will not be molded; for it will just be…
forever imperfect and unconditional.
(C) Walter J. Wojtanik