Out of love, we hate.
Opposites attract, yet they take.
Or did we give our heart away?
Did it slip out the door, crying love don’t live here anymore? Did we even try to stop it or did we just empty our pockets?
Like a thief in the night, love ran off with our light.
Out of love, we ache. Barren of hope, we stray. Things too incomprensible, we mistake. Out of love, we stay.
If we were captured in a frame, would they believe us to be sane? Killing each other for personal gain. Out of love, animosity reigns.
Screaming hope at the top of our lungs, voices louder than everyone. Baritones, deeper than broken souls. Sopranos screeching high above the woes. Whispers stretching far and long. Beneath their hush, broken hearts drum.
Out of love, we’ve purchased graves. Shame is the price we continue to pay. Hiding our eyes from one another, out of love, we’ve blown our cover.
If love is patient and also kind, why does judgement run rampant and keep compassion confined.
We blame it on religion, casting down our worldly visions. But if I were to be the judge, I’d say this whole world is out of love.
Remember when it happened, that night it walked out the door? And on that very eve, love became a chore.
The biggest actors, telling lies that we care. But every time we need us, out of love, we’re never there.
Our stomachs empty, craving love for lunch. Famished, we munch. But it’s ourselves we hunt.
Let’s recreate love. Sketch hearts without condition. Repair broken souls. Assign love to God’s vision.