Where iron and velvet meet they crush within;
And where they separate they crush without;
Imprisoned by perception, comforting
Where thoughts be nought, incarcerating doubt.
Where skepticism hides and faith be sought
And where the two sides battle oft and much;
In prison bars free thinking’s never taught;
Rare velvet gloves appease and give soft touch.
Where inner softness masquerades as hard
And where protective metal coats the cloud
A person’s mettle softens through the shards
Shared differences hid, yet love avowed.
But if a love surrenders – cold wet, dying;
Then nature’s glove gives life by velvet iron.