Mortal Love

A poem about our relationship with mortal love and how fragile it is.

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1. Mortal Love

The Gods behold the world below

The gold, the silver and the precious stones a glow

They ask not what the Babylonians think, but talk in riddles upon our brink.

On the brink of death and the brink of life

They open up a fowl device

We give, we take but still we hate that precious object that is innate

Inside us it dwells in heart and mind

It takes up special places in kind

We hold them dear like holy wine

These vessels of love our holy shrine

We look to heaven and wait in line

For gods great gift of love divine

Oh mortal love a precious gift of torture, toil and holy rift

we ask you lord to hold us high so we may shine in your sky

 

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