Without  our love  we give  but our own weeds

How do we know what topic will intrigue,
That draws the mind away from mundane tasks
 What will be fertile like a bursting seed?

What kind of  poetry do folk want to read ?
Must it tell or do  they have to ask?
How do we know what subjects will intrigue?

Emotions  run like water,with no heed
Floods of feeling  overwhelm defence;
Destroy  the berries and the bursting seeds

Strength is  torment, Stalingrad besieged
Rare will we find love without  these risks
We  already know what sense intrigues

The walls break down, the colder water  leads
Who foresaw the Flood and   its dark past?
This drives all away  both raw and seed

The  hand of God, the might, the holy fist
Kneel  before the  the humble,give them rest
We must know while   learning might intrigue
Without  our love  we give  but our own weeds