These intimate songs we sing,
blend aged dreams into a ring,
that weds our gendered stew,
in matrimonial oneness not new.
The spouse is the chosen partner;
either by craft, design or choice.
Becoming indeed a legal partner,
regardless of thought or noise.
No other legal relative is such,
not even the adopted children.
For they never share that much,
not in bodily or geno brethren.
Spouses come to a disadvantage,
one that timelessly edges it on.
Success makes it an advantage,
failure casts it good in rusty iron.
Spouse is a lengthy subscription,
one that needs constant renewal.
Spouse is one true legal relation,
in danger of instant withdrawal.
Weddings ceremonies are the best hunting grounds for prospective future spouses. At weddings there are lots of like-minded persons converged in one gaily gathering to aspire for their own similar moments, hopeful of celebrating future successes or glutting over past misadventures in the marriage enterprise. It is mainly the latter, but it doesn’t show through all the exotic attires and deceptive cheery faces worn. There are lots of near misses in these mostly elusive searches for the perfect matrimony and the countless losers always out number the winners.
So at weddings most of the well wishers carry fake smiles that do not paint the reality in their hearts on the picture on their glowing faces. Yet those who either had it bad before or not, will try again to mislead yet another possible victim of another lingering incompatible union and lure them into yet another hopeful pathetic try.
Worn with its pride
As any true bride.
A scar from a war
Is like a lion’s roar.
Not on Everest’s peak
Must anyone do seek,
For even on all hills
Are these worlds ills.
The baby that cries,
Steals away and tries;
To be his own parent,
Where he is only sent.
That spouse out back;
Behind one Holy Ark,
Leaves the same vow
Yet remains, some how.
They; as many, are
So near and not far.
Wounds made bold
In this very world.