God doesn’t gamble at the breathing gates
Neither to north, nor south behind the blue,
The strings of life are searching for their fates
In quest of love and its balanced view.
Under the spell of happiness’ green shades,
The harmony is getting pure and true.
God doesn’t gamble with the fire’s storms
Negotiating happiness around.
Embracing joy, the skies are crafting forms
Of willingness in search of sacred bound.
The ashes turn their pitches to strong norms
Of bringing love, the greatest nature’s sound.
© Simona Prilogan