Love labors br often in the pit of sorrows; br an ax sometimes br pounds away br digging deeper down br into sorrows depths br to the sub-strata br of Bitter Regrets. br br Love sometimes labors br planting Honey Trees br watching them grow br to form br garden-greens br and water-falls. br br Laboring Love br brings the baby child br whose smiles br washes away br the pain br child-bearing brings. br br Love labors in my eyes br in which you can see br my heart br waiting beside br that rosy road br which br always br brings br you home to me. br br Laboring love br exhausts itself br for it has no choice br but to be relentless br in pursuit br of giving birth br to br itself.