The Black & White Poet

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when the rain-drops hit the floor,
the soul is only doused in thirst...
the crystle dribbles downward
off the irises and lilies.
not ten feet afar from the lot-
where dreams are suffering to dispatch
into reality.
every dose of emotion has gone astray
from understanding and judgment.
does love ever wonder-
away from hope and faith?
the spirit refuses to stand still.
and i cannot choose to discontinue this ...
it has no last line.
forever is so fragile...
for what i do today-
is effecting my morrow.

~DaYnA e.

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