“Coup de grâce”
Coup de grâce, or a question’s simply put:
Devour paradise in this briefest breeze, or live within
The pale and maelström that penetrates a lifetime. Phrases, phases in the winds
Of light are bloated fires jilted, plundered truths, these the soot
And garnish of vanities enjoyed as spice, meant to jolt,
To jumpstart, to reinforce the bottom line–shortcuts
In weathered notions fully fleshed, fruition’s gains–neat, but
Missing something in the translation. Transition, reverend folks,
The longer, sweeter tide of thought stretched taut within me
Sees no sweet nothings, no grace notes breathing in or out
Of line with those who practice only basic chords, and yearn to jump and shout.
Rest, then, and put it to the test. Know this, attend! Simplistic as it seems
The truth will out soon enough. Within the endgame happiness
Enjoys dominion in this world, it’s true, but joy ascends the Next.