Ask Nothing of This World

Ask Nothing of this World What is this? What sleek retribution is held within the Slightest movement on the soil? What slim issues stance is almost broken In cadence and cascade? Words shall leave the senses blind, Enough, time will find a healing balm for Eye to seize the day, when all in dreams must Fade; oh, this is not a sadness offered; this is not the final cut of circumstance; for yes, my fellow’s dreams are sharp, yes their corners are folded clarity; all plans are Squared away this day; all is smooth and proper in Some ceremony of guilt and pleasure – but low a lasting treasure is found beyond such rituals, Such histrionic poses; beyond your comprehension – A gift which beats a pulsar tympani – as angels moan In symphony to herald the coming of His summation; His fingers on the moon, unseen tendrils tug the axis of the universe toward a sanguine moment… Shout this Brothers! True! His fiber strands withstand all trauma, his nightly dream, Your daily drama to give your heart a twirl, To ask nothing of this world.