(Photo via The Other Side - Feed the Children ) LOVE: The problem is not that your hope has sagging limbs. The problem is not that your love has splintering veins. The problem is not that your spirit’s numbed to arctic degrees. The problem is that you’re lethargic, dead to the dance of Love. The problem is that your lovelessness cracked the steel of your thoughts and drove a sledgehammer deep inside of you with the great weight descending from over the shoulders with a vengeance. The problem is that your fear tightened its grip on the handle of the hammer and you slung wrath’s weight and crushed a cartload of innocent children whose faces smiled up from their jumbled view with questions that never had the chance to be answered. CHILD: “Why do you hate my blackened smile so much that you’d flatten it with the blunt instruments of your contempt? CHILD: Why would you violently pull the teeth of my joy like a cruel dentist who loves his job to the same degree with which he abuse...
(The Weaver's Song)