*

Let all in sight succumb at bay,
Whom no air can wrest this day,
Hearts be wrung in strings of gold
Nor tighter than belts y’soul to hold,
Nor looser than fabric start to bend,
Ere lingering dread is but foe to fend,
And the weeks soon fall on day, night,
And years whistle with truth too right,
Who knew all along what action take,
But could not think which step to fake,
So sat are the ones who dream too big,
So forget Adam and Eve their taste of fig,
On whose glory came God’s demise,
On whose exile came more to rise,
Yet what they feared is what they sought,
If it could not have been, then it was nought,
They did it well and so others shall sway,
If one can fight back, more shall lead the way.