…nor bread buttered
My open heart
Is a weary soul blanched
A storm of tides
And pride taken to task
Unmasked,
now deep running waters have branched
Into channels
— now on waves I do bask
Exultant,
by a message borne to bear
Finest judgement
sees no alternative
In dreams or in songs
or something I care
Against peril
— always competitive
The wind blows
by deducible facts born
The sky is fraught
by tea leaves not yet drawn
Shadows of night
are summed up by the dawn
The sun shines bright
…not upon the forlorn
Does your open heart go
where the wind blows
Does your pride implode
by those you implore
Are you unmasked
by the boiling sea’s flows
The unchartered tide
— yet do you explore
One must make haste
or give into reason
Some seem more equal,
easy they grow on
The world’s all a stage
— four are its seasons
Dictators are sauced
already freezing
To wit,
’tis not monopoly by truth
Pander not to prophets
nor to their glee
Confidence in knowledge,
not the uncouth
Bread can be buttered,
but unlikely free
