A pact, devised within the heart,

was setteled in the mind.

And with it life began to florish

but the heat declined.

Love me tender. Love me hard.

Love me nevermore..

The flexibility of love

did not prepare the store.

Demand is ever present

and supply must be renewed.

The owner runs from obligation.

There’s One can’t be refused.

So definitions changed

to suit that customer’s account.

A loss was taken but the pact

disguised the true amount.

No inventory tallied

so the owner would not see

the damage won from love undone,

from which the owner flee’d.

But consciousness, with ways untold,

revealed, in sorrow’s eyes,

the happiness that once engulfed

a pleasure worn with lies.

The victim is the self

and pardons given doth decieve..

For sorrow holds the only ledger

most will never see.

Sorrow’s cast aside for some

believe life must go on..

And meditation seems to keep

the owner from the song.

So Life is lived despite

the fight now raging in the soul.

Some are happy. Some are pleased.

Some stay in the cold.

The owner thinks it easy,

knowing no one else will gain

access to the warehouse where

the pact is thought contained.

Yet every move that’s made

concealing truth reveals the lie:

during the day the owner’s gay,

In night the owner cries:

“How can I begin to change

the choices I have made?

Should I tell the hurting soul

or take it to my grave?”

The owner starts to question but

that’s where the story ends.

For if that love is truly love,

then love will always win..