Upon An Emptied Hearth Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

It
is the
pain, tyranny
pleased; once again.
Once again and so again
as, the Temple door compels
the illuminated; to walk away…
Enlightenment, brightens up each
midday's sun, annihilating with that
mysterious deathly arrow all with a
fatal power; why? Before life and
sorrow become tomorrow's low
reality, that one manifestation
of an ultimate liberation. How
very noble then, yet carnal is
the conscience of conscious
the rival of modesty, the
adversary of morality
inviting all those unfaithful
and unchaste to venture where
all others fear to go… Grace is within
yet the heart's sights are set upon the
hidden amorous and entertaining life to
be had; by all bad girlz and boyz… Daggers
of livings bequeath, tease the emotions with
images equally telling; and the rule compelling
the truth, is so convoluted and twisted. One may
be capable of realizing, what truth is; maybe! How
then can one love? How can one comprehend what is
a shame; and still past the tests of what is pride and
what is socially acceptable and what is reality? Life
is the abode of heart and faith and love? Meant to
be experienced without tears cried or sullen moody
brooding. Consider this then, as a stone may feel, then
too the flesh; and therefore the spirit, and this is sensible.
As the stone feels then so does the heart, any heart on any path
tread feels as does any stone on any path… Life can glow like
that first given self, when such self appears in the midst; of
each living being when it is asked for. And when this does
appear, then what remains is truth, is dear, is that need
which is truly and dearly needed; and one should not
cry upon anyone's glance; should they? Before trust
is redeemed and laid bare; upon an emptied hearth.