The Spiritual Warrior
I sit here quietly under the dark night skies,
My face is warmed by the tears from my eyes,
The glitter of stars so distant and cold,
Not unlike the love I would hold,
The night air around me is crisp and clean,
The irony of love to my soul is so mean.
I must be strong I am always told,
I’ll use up my strength before I get old,
The source of my strength is fed by love,
But how do you eat the wings of a dove,
They are beyond my reach and one of a kind,
The essence of love is so hard to find.
The food of love to strength is sweet,
The Spiritual Warrior sees not defeat,
By denying his soul the Warrior progresses,
Searching for love through strength he confesses,
I sit here quietly under the dark night skies,
My face is warmed by the tears from my eyes.
poem by Terry Wiens
Added by Poetry Lover
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