The Doubt of Spring
The doubt of spring,
makes winter warm,
when all is cold is now gone,
The sparkle of night,
and the seasons change,
whether love or loved,
what shall remains, will remain.
Cleanse the void,
Inside oneself,
that haunts the child,
all dreams,
all thoughts.
To be re-born, reinvented,
classless, or assured,
to stand in the crowd,
in the dark, in the light.
A spider crawls down,
a web in itself,
does the creature start again,
or it forever knows best.
The cruelty of love,
is born like seasons,
all twisted and tired,
revelled and revealed.
Walk alone without direction,
make believe,
a game, without a victor,
only birds and their songs,
singing together,
while the days count the lives,
of those who still live.
Seasons of change,
as the change of the heart,
pours a love so forever,
that the end, is to start.
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