Weakening Strength Poem by Nancy Nalbandian

We strive to procreate a Heaven in a Hell-like despaired place,
We try
But we never become,
What we truly desired to be.
Phantoms of fear take over consciousness
Turning our flesh into a sober bone.
Tumultuous we become,
When we ponder instead of enact.
Perfection is the purple sky,
I hear them say - but pictures merely depict that state.
Diction becomes an element of fire,
Igniting the fiery spark of the unexplainable.
Love is a human being-
Constitutes its body, mind and heart.
It has it own fears, desires, perfection and may dismay.
My love is a beautifully hand-made crafted art,
Not a chaotic state of mind.
Pieces of wires interwined,
A corrupted city he thinks he is,
But a natural resort i believe he will always be.
Songs of experience and innocence he masterfully sings
And a touch of magical reality
Scares his valiant self.
My sanctuary is in my love's eyes,
I see the whole universe
In what they 'pupil'call.
I feed on him
Like a hungry mammal
I crave his innocence.
My son, he will always be
I will nourish his presence in my zealous homogeneous being.
He will remain
And so will I
We shall live on
As our love will.