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Love and hate to bake.
All are on the take.
It's in our own soul.
Brothers to be sold.
Yet in a single flower.
It blooms in its own hour.
So the water does flow.
Shuffle onward real slow.
Profound are the times.
We find ourselves a rhyme.
Love and hate a thin line.
At the bottom only to find.
When the barrel is empty.
Our life becomes exempt.
On a road of GODS life.
Our soul a sponge of spite.
Love and hate call all.
Inside our souls to be a just ball.
Let us all walk onward.
Into our own beyondward.
from my poem book - DREAMS 3
