Making the the marvels of magical mysteries.
breaking the times of antithesis, unto felonious Joy.
Wondrous the flagrant histories.
And the sadness of the man-boy.
Doth the feminine wax about the field of subtlety.
Or the masculine warble in saintly hue.
perchance in mad luxury.
who cares of pink muave or blue.
that the angst is titillated, scorning the casual conventions.
Of one The Born Not the chosen.
Ceasing the Strides old contentions.
baking the cakes, seething the wine of causality, err the frozen.
for peace, for love though peace and love be broken.
thus the token.
©Pat Connor
P