Your Answer
by Odin Roark

Because you asked,
It is to see smiles comforting pain,
A nightingale’s song amidst bombs bursting,
Gardenia fragrance filling the air of loss,
A child’s touch from beneath blood soaked cover.
It is to taste the dry mouth of dismay.

Yet…

Accepting passion knows no boundaries,
Its energy knowing tears cannot be confined,
It proffers many a paradoxical place and time.

Still…

Even among wanting moments of joy’s relief,
There patiently lurks another round of sorrow,
Rendered by ignorance,
Oblivious that sadness is pandemic,
Stealthily infecting any and all delusions.
.
Yet…

For beyond the obvious,
Laughter’s power shakes its bars,
Rattles in shackles,
Begs only to offer healing,
Even as closed sensitivity,
Adoring only itself,
Hearing but its own echo,
Smelling proudly its own hubristic odor,
Will continue savoring greed’s aftertaste,
Never discovering an alternate choice.

Many call it revelation.
Some refer to it as mediation.
Few call it love.

If you know yourself,
You know your answer.