The bane of my existence
Is in the finer acts
The acts to small to recognize
The acts that I always surmise
In the finding of the lies
The bane of my existence
Is in the vain persistence
And the ever labeling
And the tormented fabling
And the strange laboring
The bane of my existence
Is in the act of love
It makes us a slovenly slave
To the unforgiving nave
And turns our souls concave
The bane of my existence
Is in the forc’ed hope
That someday soon
Our love might swoon
Under the velvet moon
The bane of my existence
Is in the age old peace
That lies in the fight
And in the darkened night
And in the finding of the light
The bane of my existence
Is in the workings slow
Of invention so bold
And also so cold
Yet they have such a hold
The bane of my existence
Lies within the acts
And in the love
And in the hope
And in the peace
And in the slow
For that is the reason I know
Of our life on earth
From the moment of birth
Until the end of time
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Matt - These are very spiritual words to live by. I am a Christian Unitarian, so I recognize my beliefs in many other religions. We are much more alike than we are different. Blessings to you - Cheryl