Solemnity begs that I should not repeat it,

The massing lack of knowledge blooming in me;

To use apophasis and other secrets

Does not darken my heart as much as the greedy base,

It which begins to surge and suck softly

At the soft marrow, sweetness.

I am the creation of boundless joy-

If I cannot claim to possess it-

For who can point the finger at a one living,

Rather than a one who childishly basks?

Lessons deny the springing of subtle heat;

The saying is the paralipsis – it should not be said,

And shall not be mentioned, at my coy expense.

Paralysis of both tongue and mind

Derived from strict progression,

Sunshine to moonlight, ocean to dam;

Society entreats that the hope be levelled,

And the repetition of mine be held in sleep.

There, the derivation is an object of simplicity;

How I do reject truth for the controlling

Smack of sincerity, painted whispers in daylight!

I cannot tell what has never come to be:

The essence of a life rewritten by the hand,

A governing, not helping offer.

It would be wrong for me to sweep my mouth

In a circle around the dainty words.

I shall not admit that my emotions lead the dance,

That I am lost in curling spontaneity,

That everything I have once followed

Instead becomes a lie when placed with this misdirection.

I dare speak those words, but am dared to close

My eyes, forget the exhalated caress I can remember.

The End

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