A Love Supreme is one blessed by God’s Hand.
It’s a dream one must focus on, knowing just how.
If it happens one doesn’t (though never the case),
The desire alone knows wellbeing and grace.
I’m alone, as I like it. I’m justified, now,
To blame bad behavior on subconscious plan.
All you lovers out there… I’m not jealous of you
For the love you are, wholesomely balanced and sane.
The illusion of sadness I’ll lose in due time.
My job, until then, is to make feelings rhyme
Perhaps for the sum of us who cain’t talk plain
Or just for the deeply disordinant few.
The calendar year’s a reminder again
Like a clockwork of greenery tunneled in love.
A leisurely stroll hand in hand with oneself
Might just make one believe he’s a lost Santa’s elf.
Who would put a damned rose in a fisted glove?
Someone rip snorting desperate to make a new friend?