and the greatest of these is love?
and the greatest of these is love?
and the greatest of these is the lover.
hover while you cover your ass, pass judgement
in ignorance on preferences present and passed,
blasting bit by bit the fit feast released then ceased
because fear abounds.
because fear confounds
and with sounds that have downed
even a messiah or two along the way
it will play with your purpose.
is not the essence of life the presence of love?
is not the essence of life the presence of love?
is not the greatest of all things love?
and if so, is the lover not the trump card
in the deck we deal from and are cut into?
we shatter shit to split splinters
that we may hinter not this winter of our contentiousness.
raise your eyes to skies and peel the lies
like a scab from your soul, you control.
you control everything you are willing to love.
and the greatest of these is love.
and the greatest of these is love.
the greatest disease is the love of lesser dreams
than love and all the excuses we accuse others of foisting
as they let us hoist ourselves on our own regard.
pardoned for our passivity, we strike the hot bars
of a cage we begged for and then recoiled from
as we realized we might actually have found
something profound in the emptiness we feel
when we reveal the seal is broken and we have spoken
the truth this once, that love is the divine wine we desire and aspire to.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.