Ardour of the hour glass,
Silences ‘the fates’,
Pregnant with forecast,
Heavy as dark ale.
Of a trader in passing;
Fallen birds cite too late:
“Tease the man of artful classing
-a foul trick; absquatulate!”
Let Sinister chide and entangle,
Along with Clandestine;
Will sit as judge over all wrangle,
Who dares foretell our next line?
A little here; a little there,
Clothe them all with Sadness’ hue,
Whence there will be tear; Death borne with despair,
Sell ‘em grand fabric the colour of Blue.
Oh Nefarious Playwright,
All wrongs, steer right,
Dark wisdom preventer.
Who makes Knight?
Great ones spites?
Leave ‘Him’ speak truth,
Lest he despise that gender;
Let’s name him a ‘Ruth’,
Still, we wrongly engender.
When it, our feeble minds fail to control,
We watch it slip: “Alas, have a go!”
I know of its nature: Time is a Troll!
The fabled ‘Blue Merchant’: Keeper of “Long Ago”.
In all might, with all grim,
‘Tis not close to ‘almighty’,
Though it the Stars and Sun adore,
Shall bow low to one; ‘tis messenger of God!