Its no man who names names
Its no woman who plays games.
Long is the night of pleasantries, falling on muted force.
Hard is the lonely course.
Yet bless are they with "lovers" plutonic.
As if one is bionic.
Yet, any more takes patience and care.
Less one be caught stupid and unaware.
Light is as a garden, it is grown.
Oh, how the darkness of the alone.
seen as a treason to vital culture thus.
Yet, God gives them good thrust.
friends dance the dream, of love.
to seethe the war of dissidence.
And cometh love, the hope of weary mankind.
©redic
R