poem segments

each night is a sight
into a day gone blight or bright.

make it right;
keep love in sight.
despite the might
of those who spite.

each day i fear,
i may not hear
the voice of love,
from Holy Dove.

and so i strive to stay alert
to keep from causing another hurt.

for in our bliss,
we sense it true
love is our being,
through and through.

and in our misery,
when much we doubt.
lay rest to woe-is-me,
when love breaks out.