I swear I will not waste another word
on worthless trysts or friendships without soul.
To do so would be pointless and absurd;
like perfume on a pig or down a hole.
I swear I will not waste another breath
on people of forked tongue or twisted heart.
And if I should, then send me to my death;
for life should not be squandered — not one part!
A wind of ice now blows across Earth’s sphere
under the guise of spirit and of love.
Refusing to be judged, its root is fear;
its source is not from light or heaven above.
Therefore, because most hearts have turned to stone,
I’ll gladly spend what’s left of life alone.
© Alan Morrison, 2015