Treasure Island

G.R. Gaus

(April 11 1950 / St. Louis)

Agape


What is this love, Agape Love?
The love, that God is made of?
It lives in the song of the dove,
Sprinkles down, from far above.

The love that we pretend to feel,
Not the true love that we conceal,
How then, do we know what's real?
It can soothe the heart to heal.

Where did it go, why did it leave?
So much here, is meant to deceive,
It's very simple, you must believe,
True feeling, will naturally conceive.

It can't be that hard, a life to fulfill,
Is it that moment; everything's still?
When I feel; that warm tingling chill?
You're beginning, to know, my will.

Submitted: Monday, April 02, 2012
Edited: Monday, April 16, 2012

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Have you ever asked God a question and sometimes an answer comes into your head, and you don't know if was really you or him or both. The Native American's believed that everything is connected as one, from all the living things to the Great Spirit. The irony in this is that the invading Europeans tried to teach them, the proper way to live. We are all connected to the source of life and the source of life is Agape…..

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