The Wisdom Of Finding Love Poem by Andrew Stergiou
The Wisdom Of Finding Love
ENEMIES:
One does not need to search to find enemies,
for enemies are always found,
so throughout history,
the wise never search for enemies,
or hate as causes,
in animosity which births enemies,
in virgins bosoms,
calling out for what they never knew,
for the kindest, wisest and gentlest,
all have enemies, as fools, ogres and knaves,
as hot and cold days of summer and winter contend,
also do many friends, as Brutus and Caesar,
whom are seen as they wish, and not as they are.
FRIENDS:
Where one does not find friends, for friends do not grow on trees,
as friends are made as the sleet and rain, the snow and hail,
in kinsmen where commonality is found,
as evil words do no harm as weapons on the waist are worn,
that deposed at will are those that can do no harm,
relentless as the winds they are driven on,
in the pain of suffering, the honey of joys,
for which we beseech thee
LOVE
Those who search for love can not find it,
for love is never found though often it is lost,
as love can not be found as it has been lost,
hidden as it maybe in plain sight,
from that which gives it flight,
in wishes as horses which beggars ride,
in what can not be found as enemies,
nor that which is made as friends,
love is not what is found,
in all our insistences,
it grows from the seeds sown by friends,
cast aside by enemies,
enemies who they themselves were cast aside,
to be found and made as friends, again,
who grow to love what can not be found nor reasoned,
nurtured not is not found in sexual temptations,
nor employed and paid as harlots by wealth and riches,
nor spoken to in sophistry and deceptions, in tricks,
where in consistent compassions, compassion is found,
in hard words, are soft tones, of quiet moments,
resting the world finds love though it recognizes it or not,
for that is the wisdom of love in that it resists being found,
so it lives where you may not destroy it,
where those who need it are found.
Doing without doing, speaking without speaking, being without being, knowing without knowing, for though I am me, I am not the eternal me,
just as the the Tao which can be spoken of is not the eternal Tao.
Ever changing I come and go and say hello good bye with best wishes if possible.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/6/2024 9:04:15 AM # 1.0.0.1119
