Warmth
Warmth has no end when doubts simply die,
If depth is drawn out of wisdom’s own tree,
And sits upon high to teach us its way,
While syphoning pain, sadness and guilt.
Alone we must gain its glow beyond par,
Facing our heart’s, own pierced hole,
That bleeds sacred rain the world cannot see,
And beats in reversed fashions of love.
Then can we know that healing light works,
And through its own means touches the core,
By infinite hope that comforts the soul,
And helps us to form a measured out life.
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