Aeonian Probity Promised
The heart can carry pain like a talisman.
Warding off further pain.
Encased in hebetude.
Wallowed in a plethora of flummox.
Like a butterfly in chrysalis.
A radiant sapphire evanescent.
Rhapsodic felicity turned idyllic melancholy.
But the butterfly quiescent must not,
Forever remain in this state.
For aeonian probity is promised,
If the heart rises beyond pains mediocrity.
And tend to its irenic power with its maker.
A dulcet melody in silent reverie.
----Ask S.O. where some of these words came from----
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