Love Loss


To love
that which is loss of worth
a descent in pain
of wanton birth

Demands less
than superficial scrape
to love a world
so poor in shape

A world
to fit both large and small
offers hope for none
and all

Such has
The stained touch print of man
the breech of hand and heart
replete

These twain
once part shall never meet

To love
that which is loss of worth
reframes one’s life
in self defeat

This thread
now frayed all boundaries flee
yet brings to aim
a frightful plea

A world
thus shaped I wholly see
its love loss worth, its center
me

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