Love's labors are not lost
Her stellar body orbits
Round, and around.
Some months passing close
And hott, other months
more remote and cold.
Even as the moon draws
Tides to ebb and flow,
Love's labors push and pull
Agitating new wounds
And cleaning old ones...
The timeful, painful process
Of planets becoming
Seasoned for growth.
Would you trade
Your old moon
For a brighter sun?
Would you leave
This familial temperate
For a new lattitude?
They may seem
Warmer and more kind
But every son's light
Will eventually burn.
It's just the nature
Of the world
We live in.
It's just the nature
Of the beings
We live with.
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