When schisms rupture and shades of dark do dances.
devils dine with devils and see,
another conflict! Born of reverie.
The Angels must have dropped their harps to roll their die of chances.
C'est le vie, a conflict's born!
Dear nature always sings her song.
lets lush melodies and nectar
from muses breast be torn.
Wolves too long,
barred from play.
Might tend to shy away.
And if you sit or stand and listen
To a truer story teller;
few things make sweeter poetry
Then when conflict is unbound,
set free,
or love turned into hostility.
Just watch a little when you see,
star crossed lovers in oppugnancy.
With love and strained savagery.
The deep sky touch blue sea,
Melted in some harmony.
When shade and dark do dances.
loves; father of all quarrellings,
And mother of sanguine, tears.
never a lovers foul word spent
Without heatfelt and good intent.
- Noel Vock
