In the Wafts of my Love

In the wafts of my love,
that word forbidden to our mouths,
I found a life so dear to my world.
Looking for nought more,
I wandered these biting streets.
Why is it that poets,
celebrating that worth contemplating,
are forced to talk of all but love?

Talk of the poor
and the misery of others,
the hate that festers in hearts
like symbols of distrust,
the distrust of years, creating a film
of filth on the face
of pools that is your broken heart,
the words that change a generation,
that take us away from us.

Talk of drugs and potions,
of panaceas and lives
that save us.

Be sentimental towards life -
it saves humanity more than commentary would.
Nothing to talk about greater than love.

That word has been stolen from us -
return it to the place it owns.
Be bold in being worthless,
all the worth in world cannot be defined.
why chase it?