The Vessel of His Life

Quell not the hearts of man, But open your heart, let the sunshine in. A drunkard with sunlight he was, Right to the end. Stealing your affections, But not meaning to offend. Grand vexations he was, Luminously portraying a cloudy existence. Soaring into an atmosphere above life and understanding, Calling upon ancient idols, As if morning doves courting life, A flicker of pleasure, But not to show weakness A gallows to be his fate, As he dreams of the language of flowers and other mute things. For they give off the answers of life, Like chatting with the clouds, While gathering divine honors, Crested upon the purest essence, That blaze a trail to his heart. Pain is the only nobility beyond the clutches of earth and hell, Clear and easy to understand, While mounted on strong winds toward serene and luminous fields, Apathetic fellow travelers close behind. Pleasures in the night forgotten, never to be unleashed again, Riding out the storm in his ocean of peril, Never knowing where he will end, But in a pillow of perdition, While deepest feelings for someone clandestine with pleasure. A commander of the vessel of his life.