Love from the Willows

Take note of the Naked Souls
Coming from the Willow Grove
walking along a path
paved with memory and marigolds

Behold the lore told
many times before
of young love and old souls
auspicious lives to explore

A very merry couple indeed

Those that believe in love
could see the varying degrees
reflected by feelings of affection
that they often shared between them

Even on the days that were
ripe with pride and ego
there would always be a way
for their affinity to grow

All of their days were filled
with life, love and laughter
Until the fateful one
where one love
transitioned
into the hereafter

Take note of the Naked Souls
Coming from the Willow Grove
walking along a path
paved with memory and marigolds

sodden mortal eyes
and shattered bleeding heart
Nothing else will matter
to a world torn apart

One love left alone
to roam forlorn
and in despair
A life in pain is never fair
for no other love
could ever compare
to the kindred spirit
gone elsewhere

And yet

There is another
previously unacquainted
with the wandering love
seemingly forsaken
Smitten with the spirit
Taken by admiration

A sweet and sentimental soul
sadly kept at a distance
no chance for kinship
for forlorn love
remains reminiscent

There is association
between the two
but young love is obstinate
resistant to love anew
exceedingly scrupulous
Every breath under review

Then the day comes
where the sweet soul of one
has traveled far
and cannot return for a time

Stormclouds and dark days
prevent any hope for contact
resulting in a negative impact
and young love retracts even more
feeling forsaken

Take note of the Naked Souls
Coming from the Willow Grove
walking along a path
paved with memory and marigolds

Young love sits alone
eyes soaking in tears
heart bathing in morose emotion
Until a presence appears

Love lost is found again
An apparition of the past
Embodied in the present
Reunited at last

But only for a moment

Love is young
and love transitions
but love is never lost
although that’s often the thought

Love that’s never lost speaks
of young loves stubborn nature
often the cause of discord
and disagreements between them
but also the source of admiration
The wellspring of young loves determination
beautiful all the same
but here no one is to blame

Young love can shine again
not for the sake of sentimental soul
but because love has no end
cannot be lost
and when genuine
is always whole

Take note of the Naked Souls
Coming from the Willow Grove
walking along a path
paved with memory and marigolds

They’ve come to tell us what they know

My Money

I hear that
Money is the root of all evil

Interesting

The only thing I know about money
is that it’s only valuable when it departs
So having a large sum of money means
A great departure
Something similar to
The improvement of spiritual well being
After an exorcism

Get more money
Spend more money
Getting more money means
Spending more money

Just to acquire more things we regard
as personal possessions
and I wonder if when we possess a thing
if it’s in the same way
that a spirit possesses a body
If it does
then that possession requires a bit of spirit
a spirit that can be spread exceedingly thin
If a person were to possess
A multitude of things

but that’s a tale to tell on another night

 

 

It doesn’t seem to make much sense then
to make money
To invite the demons
their curses and their burdens
just to see an improvement
just to see spiritual well being
improve to a point
that it would have been without such an ordeal

Or maybe
they only become demons
If we invite them
and make them stay
Longer than they should

 

Interesting

 

So what I surmise
There is something going on
That we don’t realize

This might be unrelated
it’s possible
It’s in my mind but it’s still debated

 

I feel

there is an unhealthy infatuation

with preservation

 

Using immortal tombstones and pictures
Depictions that don’t age
We hold on to our beloved cadavers
with tender love and reverence
sometimes neglecting those who are still alive
Until we can hold onto them
with tender love and reverence
of course
when they become corpses

Unless of course
We can reanimate the corpse
steal the souls of the living
Like a lover
a friend
any kind of loved one
whom we abuse
or refuse to let go of
Because they give life to some amiable memory
Or a traumatic moment not fully forgotten
Some fleeting feeling
Transformed into a spiritual succubus
That gathers life energy for its master
Leaving one to wonder why
they feel so drained

 

From my perspective
it’s not life
but preservation that we consider so precious
I say so because
Life
Moves

I’ve never seen something so well preserved
also be the same thing that seems so alive
And I don’t think I ever will
Everything I’ve seen immortalized
was either dead
or completely still

Except the one time
it was caged
I only knew it was alive
Because it would sing
I know why

Sometimes
We waste life
waiting for something
that gives us a reason
to appreciate the very thing
that we trade for it
and then wonder why
time always seems to be slipping away

Bringing us closer…

 

 

The Fear of Death
The Fear
Fear

Well hello there
Friend
Forgive my loose use of the term
I’ve met your cousin Arnold
What an interesting character he is
Although I can never find Waldo
if you’re ever in the realm of my view
I can always see you
Friend
You once designed my whole world
been in my life for so long
I wonder what else you could be

As strong as you are
I know there is a villain
much more powerful than you
Your Master
The Feeling of Inadequacy

A Debilitating Deity
Demanding immolation from its subject
The fearsome entity
Which gathers gifts from its subordinates
The fearful
Who command the spiritual succubus
to steal
to distress
to oppress
to suppress
to depress
to cause stress

and money
or whatever it is concerning it
that causes corruption
is among a myriad of methods
it can use to do so

Like how a root
is a method
for a tree to gather nutrients

 

So I guess
that these whispers
About money, roots, and evil
may be more than just hearsay

And
Those that whisper
Just might be right