O, for my dear do I with misplaced heart,
Employ airy deeds born of despair’s hope,
For life unlived doth from my grief impart,
That lonesome lull where lover learns to cope.
Therein contemplation’s seeds wildly grow,
And flames of insanity ride the wind
A loss this wayward knave hath come to know
Where heart’s desire slumbers and life hath grinned
Whilst, rain streams swell into pools, I traverse
Drumming hooved hearts that gallop in herds
Where libretti art penned in chanted verse,
And melodies of heart utter like birds,
Voicing new worlds sung in fifths and thirds,
Ever procuring time unheard by words.