POETRY

In The Hands of a Weak Soul

A poem of love

Photo by Art Institute of Chicago on Unsplash

In the hands of a weak soul
Love is evil

It changes the will into iron
Makes chains of one’s own blood
It makes the flesh into prey
And the passions
A slavemaster

In the hands
Of a weak soul
Even the most precious
Medicine
Is poison

In the end
The love
Of a weak soul
Separates it
From God

In the hands
Of a weak soul
Love
Itself
Is
Death