The power of love is the only strength That lends succor to the wealthy of heart Broken, trampled-on, whatever has been It does not count the hours of labor
it is infinite in mercy and hope singing its way into syllables recognized by its origin and source collected like daisies like daffodils
gathered against the storms of exposure the lights, the curtain, the stage entrance door, for this is the theater and arbor a garden that grows forever or more
opening of infinite mystery that I love you that you that you love me
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