The Nine Gates In Line

A mother’s womb is so warm

as the baby glides slowly it cries shrill

as if it is out in a storm

when laid on the mother’s bosom

it sleeps quiet and calm.

 

The child sucks the breast hard

finds no milk at once

there hangs the umbilical cord

stained in damp red blood

illustrates the birth bold.

 

The phenomenon of growth

from childhood to adulthood

arranged with learning in all likelihood

as the child attains manhood

with intentions all good.

 

Love and hate cross intermittent

there is a conflict well displayed

with the abhorrence gaining a determinant

love in a scope is not prominent

the clash of egos become imminent.

 

The contradictions are magnified much

the feuds take the magical wand

they easily dislocate the fastened bond

the I in me and the I in you are around

the battle is fought, one losing the ground.

 

A slight adjustment here

a light alteration there

could bring in wonders with a shine

the resultant be an endearment fine

that would open all the nine gates in line.

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