For the Love of Folly

They meet with music blasting

in party everlasting,

thunder cracks in the air.

The air itself is striking,

song beats and bloodlines spiking,

and all the colors flare.

Could this be it, his Isolde,

and all love's tales since told?

Or is he in a snare

with some sweet Estella,

Cleopatra Dama Bella,

hellfire in the air?

Beware the traps false love and fate hath laid -

lustshake, friendship, the spirit in what's chased.

and yet

they dance with so much grace

that hope and bliss replace

all sense of time and space

Words to trade and spirits shared

orange blossoms in the air.

In the trusty woods,

once love's made

snap

the magic

fades

•

you trace back the cracks that whirlwind through the weeks

you call out to your soul but your ego's all that speaks

numb to bonds with hollow heart cavorting all the way

recover slow with scars that harden souls and all the days

decadence borne of the disconnect

massless faceless sex unchecked

spiral down the dark descent

until

hope ascends

in a word, in a song, in another,

the beauty of the world opens your soul.

In the end,

your heart, your mind grow stronger,

but with strength will hardness fill the hole?

Does the heart harden like so many wounds

entrenching in a self-made tomb,

a road of madness,

tale of doom?

Or can you free what once was closed,

the soul, so delicate, so easily mistold?

Fight fight for love.

And for the soul.

And for new hope.

And for the old.

And wait in time for one who comes

who slips all mortal cares,

whose head and heart and eyes are home,

who lays no mortal snares.

When that moment comes, they say you'll know,

those advocates of Love and Cupid's throw.