But that we are on perennial Lists of the living  dying
And once again flowering on someone’s collective right
Or another’s left, honoured blossoms in the frame and light
And all that can be cherished, remembered, idolising
Polished stones or gilded parchments within perspectives visible, allied,
Augmented and beyond the commonweal or plebiscite,
We worship the imagination albeit inoculated with conjecture’s might,
As legacies to thought and evidence, by youth of course despised—
The seed of tears to those who would have it so—
There comes a balance in justice, impediment to all that builds the blind
To hide while viewing bliss to hearts who bear the weight of manicured time,
The yeasts of arts and sciences of all humanity; choices grown
To what is sanctified beneath as bequests of and to Creation above all texts
Declaring a  clear succession in this life that mirrors what must come next.

Slip not

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