Trust


To not be trusted
Is to be cast
Into a darkness
where light is never seen,
where the beloved’s breathing,
sleeping,
silken skin,
Is forever in doubt.

Without trust,
time places the me
beneath covers of awaiting bleakness,
never seeing the light
where future patiently awaits.

Those who never know trust
delude the heart into false motion,
nurturing beats that slowly implode into silence,
realizing not life,
but the clinging to denial.

Trust is love’s primary armor,
whether of beast, plant
or a human’s state of mind.

Impenetrable by arrow, lance, or agenda,
trust knows only conviction,
of that which is right,
knowing the wrong ultimately succumbs
to its own poisoning.

To wear truth on one’s lapel
as one drinks in the other’s eyes,
knows blinking is not an option.
for trust is virtual,
needing not fantasized expectation.