Love Sonnet 144 With All The Wickedness Roaming The Earth
With all the wickedness, roaming the earth,
To fill the good spots, it's a waste of Hell,
Evil of all vintage, the good's in dearth,
Paradise despoiled, soundly, it then fell.
I might, my soul, enclose in bins so tight,
With cherubim to guard, on lock and key,
Until salvation comes, and all's in light,
When hearts of men, are neither black nor gray.
But you, my dear, I've got to see outside,
For love that's always pure and truly grand,
Beware of serpents that the tree would hide,
Refuse all apples which may fill your hand:
.......Love will often seek what it hopes to find,
......And find in hope, what it has sought, when blind.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
Added by Poetry Lover
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