“…Nothing But”

Watching from the shadows an injustice so brutal—
It cleaves the heart from atrium to ventricle.
Everyday something new bursts the breath
From that internal balloon, leaving flatness in its wake.
Brief moments of refuge are taken clandestine
For now nothing is quite sacred or private—
Sleep is even elusive, and there are no dreams
To provide a vibrant escape from consciousness.

However there is a place, happily and blithely kept,
That provides a space for open hearts and minds
That are ingeniously crafted of a particular mettle.
Affection and Caring gush from every crevice—
There is no one person in the world who more deserves
The sense of tender welcome that never wears thin,
For it provides the sustenance to surge ahead
And break oneself from insidious imprisonment.

The foundation has been forged, 608 days strong,
And day after laborious day the building blocks are
Gently added by hand, a careful work of camaraderie
That is accommodating for every sort of emotion
And permutation of liking in human existence,
Standing discreetly in the distance, out of the way,
Able to easily be reached by a leisurely walk down
A path filled with beauty anywhere else unimaginable.

For the valiant heart, the soldier who has not lost
The deadly weapons he has in a forgotten arsenal,
For the artistic mind, the poet who has not mislaid
The intrinsic words he has in a secret place,
For the attentive soul, the gentleman who has not squandered
The amiable ways he lavishes on those around him,
This is the truth from my heart.