Whatever Creation Is

No time to judge The flowers the dust Whatever creation is, It is imbued with love. And must! Have the good- Sense to fly like a dove. No time for ill will But lust corrupts Even a nightingale Sings her best love Ever so shyly at dusk With a heady, smell of musk. So, harvest what love You might carry... Be but empty, and full For in death: Shall we not all truly, Marry for love? Whatever creation is, It is imbued within us. Golden as a river green Expansive as a world unseen... Silver as a mayfly blue I'm in love with you.