Benevolence

Ugly is the infestation of envy.
An envious night will drown the sun
for victory.
Humanity is a tale of torment,
and benevolence
is the seed of love.
Can the wrath of war sink eternal bliss?
Cannot benevolence drown infernos instead?

A broken heart needs seventy-two stitches,
and art needs erasing the name.

In a garden, to reflect on what is past,
makes water lilies bloom.
Breed a man for memory of war
and his sole allegiance
is to the king's blade,
that swings earthward
like autumn leaves fall.

As the wounded hands
of the fatal clock march on,
hopeless tears will eat into
the stardust of the body.

Let go of home
for fancy,
for happiness,
for valor.

Valor?
It is to hold the hand
when wine has made the dancer drunk.
To have faith
when the last thread of sanity has dissolved.
To bleed through a lover's aversion.

Lonesome winters promise dear death,
and benevolence is the cemetery,
full of white roses and blood red,
it is that paradise
where the gates remain open forever.