You are synonymous with the word, love
For thoughts on each are ever more the same
And lighten here my pen as if to prove,
In heart and mind, that love and light are twain.
What irony that ink flows stygian black
To form dark lines whose purpose is bright cheer;
Still of this opposition where alack
Could contrast such serve purpose yet more clear?
From times when swords did rule the lives of men,
From days when mighty quill all thoughts inscribed,
So did sweet love with darkness e’er contend
To shine in hope and hatred’s purpose chide.
‘Tis of no chance I choose this paper white
Where on jet black accents the truths I write.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.
Loubert S Suddaby poems 