Klaus Meier

Sweetness

 
We taste her in our daily bread,
In cups we raise, in words unsaid.
A silent fuel, a hidden stream,
She feeds the fire, she feeds the dream.
 
She promises a race well run,
Quick victories beneath the sun
Yet in our blood her crystals creep,
And in our cells their harvest reap.
 
She builds her mountains, soft and slow,
Till swollen tides within us grow.
Desired, despised, a double face,
She dulls the will with sugared grace.
 
No guiltless joy, no endless climb,
The haze dissolves with passing time.
We know the truth, yet still pretend
Sweet lies are hard to truly end.

All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Klaus Meier.
Published on e-Stories.org on 02/22/2026.

 
 

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