What We’re Made of

When I think of failure

The awful tragedy
Isn’t loss of things
It’s lack of poetry 

A life with subtle meanings
More than merely chance
Should life appear itself
Or stem from a romance?

A bang can place your stars 
A gamblers expanse 
Mine were made with care
A place where lovers dance

You’ll never find the answers 
Close or far above
Energy and matter
We are made of love

Leave a comment