Adventure is a wraith e'er impelled
Awander through the labyrinthe of souls
Elaborating on sweet captive held,
Imprisoned in the costume of our roles.
.
For once to find the treasure, twice to cry
Aloud the jubilation of the find.
Alack the golden trove from thence to die
A-vanished with the perishing of mind.
.
Yet of it I'll have none, no god's decree
Declare to me to glance from thy silv eyes
If death the body seize, all liberty
Remain in joyous peals of vict'ry cries.
.
For pirate as I may, so found I gold
In thee ecstasy, the prize, my hand to hold.
Your touch
If touch could be assessed, butchered and sold,
What grocer would appraise the tend'rest hand?
What pundit analyze, declaring mold,
All-vigilant, defend affection's land?
.
A land of paradox, a-candied sweet
With fences, subtle spikes, and vicious spires
If past the gates, pure paradise to meet,
If banished o'er the moat sunk in sick mires.
.
Where, drownèd in a swamp of mad despair,
A-mocked by loneliness, so left to rot
And enter purgatory's only lair
By absence of affection full besot.
.
Confounded though the clerk, the more was I
To find, without sweet touch, would surely die.
@d-pend