the flames are warm–
we hold hands
what is the context of
the naked soul?
is it pure love?
who invented hate?
Britta at W3 asked for a poem with a date for a title, responding to her poem “the theory of everything”. I composed a shovel poem from this line: warm hands, wrath of soul, love, hate,
My illustration is a Japanese Bunraku puppet representing a demon, but I was also inspired by another of Brendan’s Ekphrastic photos at earthweal, below.
Imagine if someone would just give us some truth…could we all shine on?
Forty-two years. Who do we think we are?
also linking to dVerse OLN hosted by Bjorn