The human spirit is such a fragile instrument
of nature so readily succumbing to the passion
of emotions from which rational judgement flees
knowing there can be no cerebral intervention
possible to contain either of the elemental
emotions near yet so far from the echo chamber
of love and hate. The angels of our better natures
sit by dejectedly in the stifling atmosphere of
suspicion, victimhood and hatred giving birth
to threats and violations of humanity's most
coveted prize; to love and be loved. Perhaps they
are able to parse the moods and emotions that
drive particular elements of the social order to
fray its edges spreading rumour and innuendo in
a concerted regime of devaluing and slandering
the vulnerable, in the process finding satisfaction
in the dark dungeon of hatred. A mystery to those
who seek the light, attuned to the sweet fragrance
of love given and returned completing a life
cycle of certain value, leaving the haters to
discover their purpose in the venom that courses
through their meaningless lives in the process
irredeemably corrupting the legendary holy
grail of poets and lovers of a life well lived.
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