Simplicities in classic form require
Prefects in a perfect vacuum
Combined in such a way as compliments their acumen,
Their open mêmes, some rhymes to test these things as wholes inspire
Urgency to pause, to linger over aspirations no longer really there
In little more than a half a generation’s given youth in time.
So granted this, so beautifully and tragically designed,
Aloud come instant lamentations to “Move along!”or “Retire!”
With such a cry inscribed, there always were and is
A here and there in rapid profits worshiped, fierce
As gallstones of desperation: “This, our chosen age, rehearsed
Upon a cross of memories weighed as little more than in an ancient tryst!”
And, equally, the many, so catalogued, remain aloof
In cemetaries perfected in rhymeless textiles of embroidered truth.