The Search

Love--the only antidote to death resides,
in every precious corner of our minds;
But angry words dismissive of spirits' gain.
reflect all doubts in dismal hearts' refrain.

Conflicted thoughts arise in worldly manner,
and tread on souls among rebellious rancor;
Illusions grow as visions state their case,
to render prayer upon the human race.

In silent searches' previous rewards,
the world declares the cutting of the cords;
Defending eager songs of life's perfection,
and smiling through a massive resurrection.

While candles flicker in the solemn night,
hearts beat in tune of winged angels' flight;
Embarrassed now from righteous indignation,
soon purified in love's holy confirmation.

Until recognizing notions of the Divine,
we're set upon a path of wasted time;
While sweet charity sits at highest recognition,
solemnity invites all voices of contrition.