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Rated: E · Other · Emotional · #1302975
This poem is simply about a new form of kindness.
Kindness


I know, I choose a title that is quite overused,
but another title, the words seemed to refuse.
for those things that such kindness can bring,
no other word, no other description can sing.

the kindness I talk of, is not what it seems;
not kindness we find only in our deepest dreams;
but something, I feel, is so unrecognized,
something a heart like mine feels drawn to reprise.

I talk not of charity, of feeding the poor
to leave the world better than it was before;
I do not speak of finding the lost,
nor do I speak of kindness at all cost.

I speak of relinquishing a desire within the heart,
to give up deep love, to let go and part.
for when one knows another's heart is not theirs to own,
one is truly wise and truly full grown.

I knew such a person, a good person indeed
in truth, he had the warmth that anyone would need
others did love him, I'm sure they did yearn,
even beyond the fact he had so much to learn

he loved a beautiful woman--how lucky was she!
she had a mind of no bounds, a soul infinately free
in her freedom, her innocence, he learned to love her.
adoring her like Spanish to gold, Egyptians to myrrh.

for a soul of no limit, that knows no dungeons, no cell
is too easy to ruin, to topple, to fell.
and if it is destroyed, it suddenly is in chains,
freedom and beauty, it does not longer entertains

he knew she was to easy to compell with lures,
to woo with attention, poetry, or even just words.
he thought much of how to have her in his arms,
thinking hardly of love's many harms.

but when love turns to obsession, like it soon did,
it is something to expell, something to rid
and suddenly realizing, he contemplating this,
eyes aching to see, lips yearning to kiss....

but with great wisdom, he knew she was not his to take,
not his to abuse, to hurt, to mar nor to break...
some things, some graces, are not the soul's toy,
for after all, it is said, a tame horse knows not joy.

so with great willpower, he let his fire quell,
forgetting words that were not his to tell,
gone in his heart was passion! gone was desire
he let all his dream-like ambitions cool and retire.

this kindness seems nothing, seems nothing at all,
compared to other things it's insignificantly small,
but yet, I remind you, my friends, let sleepiing dogs lie...
because I tell you now a true Romeo wouldn't have let Juliet die.



© Copyright 2007 j.b.forkandspoon (forkandspoon at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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