If of definition can my beating ever be beaten

By blood itself or life from some random intention

Then you shall know how much that knowledge does sweeten

Falling that from collision has no brain in intervention

Had you such sacred lens though

By some strange immensity you’d immediately find

Maze that for impossibility has its way to go

For isn’t love total eclipse of the mind?

Grab words that to time went well trained

Releasing them in the meadow of the watery red

Lay I controlled fires to be slightly less restrained

For those words to see every sense then dead

Define not what gives meaning to your defining treasons:

Deny love, then loving your own reasons.