Pure

I'm starting again, and really hope to make a go of it after stopping beause of the stress of organising a wedding.

Last week I was given the word pure for the next poem. This pretty feeble effort about hate is the best I could come with before the deadline.

Distilled through generations,
Crystalising in diaspora,
It deals in absolutes;
Excoriates and levels doubts,
Unleashes Newton's laws,
Returns to dust all whom within
Its sickle's compass come.