It is now, master worker, when I to thee dove
And argue with myself have wove a poem
Its purpose is reply and replication to thou
Whose articles and lys were as valley to home
Incendiary world was as though all innocence
And temporal the stanzas that implicit vogue
You are the captain of my soul and its coarse
Antiquity has no room for its own traipses ars
That this phrase has compunction and synergy
Brings doubt to the center of futurism wham
Its lightning is as doppelganger that yuo are them
How has this measure miracle beginning or end?
Tell me to see in the stars that beautitude psalm
Show me what it’s worth to be attitude’s balm
And how must these arbors known to be seeds
Been especially sauntering warblings?
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