Live in ways, unknown to life,
Leave some newer poise and rhyme,
For utter waste has been made
Of the maker’s spirit and time!
He cringes amidst soporific souls,
That never unpacked His gift of life
Breathed, betrothed and burdened selves
That were toured and turned back in line!
Tossed autumn, summer and purple spring,
They wrapped the souls in furry coats
And cried could not feel a thing!
Then he sent first love’s healing hand
The sweetest pain and touches divine
They created potions invented rules
To tame His bliss in the name of mankind.
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