New Years' Ode (a contemplative poem by Sylvance DeFleur),


Ill-will is damaging, methinks.
Take I, a Lady torn with hate
For those who've hurt me. Yet Love sinks
With time, and so hatreds abate.

My Lady teaches Love, and I,
A mortal, can never achieve
The level of understand cried
By the Beholder of Beauty, I believe.

Yet in this aspiration I see
A spark of hope, a path onwards,
A sparkling, pure epithany,
That fills my glut. My gaze sunwards,

I look to warmth, salute Gods gone,
And Gods to come. Tears touch mine eyes
As hope burns me. Let us move on
From old grievance, from trusts despised,

From treacherous tales, From love rejected.
Let us forgive assuming smiles
And times we felt less than respected,
By whittling wills, from wrongful wiles.

All that have crossed me, rent my heart,
To thee I extend bursting Love.
Those wroth with me, how can I start
To extend my hand? The postal dove

Can say so much; the scribe can scrawl
Words writ with whim. Truly I send
Heart-felt, profound wishes to all.
May new years let the old years end.

In Love, I renounce Hate,
E'en new years bring new guiles.
Let time judge, let time sate.
Let old gripes bring new smiles.

FIN

Penned by my hand on the 10th of Glacian, in the year 381 AF.