Land of Love
By B.K. Lawson
Within the nebula of people,
the space that holds their souls
is a parallel composition,
one side hollow, one whole.
By God, all voids are filled,
and by evil kingdoms demolished,
whether by collapse or constitution,
there is a Heaven gained by solace.
It is fathomed by a feeling
and expressed by open hands.
It occurs by the Grace of God
and flourishes in man.
Some say they’ve never seen it,
or deem it as a myth.
Others eradicate its core
if they find that it exists.
We have the choice to neglect its caring,
to see it as a promise thwarted
by a whispering rogue feeding from fear
to ruin a truth with empty distortion.
For many, though, it is their reason to live,
solid as their origin of meaning,
obtained during one’s time in vim,
the thrust of the song of merry singing.
It is the grounds made to be cultivated
into the valley of rich soils
of goodness and beauty,
bearing the fruits of tender toils.
A sentence into a song,
a flower into a garden,
a bird into the skies,
a glance into longing,
all to be born in the land of love.
From The Mountains Here Are Showing Poetry Collection
file:///C:/Users/betha/OneDrive/Documents/The%20Mountains%20Here%20Are%20Showing%20(1).pdf
