A Woman' Love

Poem By Paul Andrew Bourne

What is life without a story,
and what is a story's essence without its moral
as it pains the psyche to know that you're alone
on a trail of love's trajectory -
because someone seeks the selfish end to the
tale
so…
I cried in pain's anger
and, I laughed in emotion's whisper,
I saw the end in the end
and wept with a poor man's wealth
I saw the heavens opened to accept my pain-
as I reach to hold the wind in my grasp
but was I in a trance
as in the story's end was its mirage beginning -
so
I cried, I cried, I cried
with a beggars' delight
from being offered a pledge in faith
I cried, I could not cease
as I saw the wind
churning on its axis -
without a care in sight.


In a vase looking from inside
I saw the phantom,
it held its image in tranquil pose
as I held in the wind with my hand -
I witnessed the delusion
as the wind held its form
I could see the wind
unfolding in my hand;
its make was kind
but its force as subtle as a
woman's wrath
so …
I cried in pain's anger
and, I laughed in emotion's whisper,
I saw the end in the end
and wept with a poor man's wealth
I saw the heavens opened to accept my pain-
as I reach to hold the wind in my grasp
but was I in a trance
as in the story's end was its mirage beginning -
so
I cried, I cried, I cried
with a beggars' delight
from being offered a pledge in faith
I cried, I could not cease
as I saw the wind
churning on its axis -
without a care in sight.

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I was tempted by my socialization into believing
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a bullet!
a single bullet!
just a piece of metal
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Shi

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I kept the hate of love lost bottled deep inside
as - those days that I loved
I did with the heart of a fool