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Jamie L Cantore Dec 2014
Lying in a sunlit meadow,
the warm day has just begun,
but I am a lazy fellow,
and today I enjoy the sun.

The azure sky is rightly pleasing,
it's bright clouds not in vain,
here my woes are quietly easing,
alongside any meted pain.

Acre upon acre around me,
lists upon lists beside,
to work that does surround me,
I say,
"All in good time."
Written under an old oak tree
years ago.
Jamie L Cantore Jun 2016
At dead of night in the muteness I sleep,
And set I my dreaming imagination free.
"Will these visions pass to where by Death
Victims think -held captive by their depth?"

'Oh what a shame is a wast'd mind, I think!'
The landscape of our dreams needn't blink
So dim, so dull -subjacent and sunken low!
'Wherefrom comes such limits in the skull?'

My mind aches to be in the know -not now.
"Could I endeavor to provide it somehow?"
I dream all things: Past, Future, & Present;
And if I could I'd  project it without lament.

All that I see to thee, profound as that may
Be: but at least we would be on one page.
Jamie L Cantore Mar 2017
Ah! if my youth were a perdurable
trance! My reality not roused till a
sun's expanse; where an aeon could prompt the first blush. Perhaps, though
those extended dreams were flush
with futile grieving, yet better than
algid facts of Existence, & relieving
kindled verve, to whose heart just
is, and always has since birth; still
within the pleasing earth, a snarl
of longing rage from her surge.

But should it come to pass--that
vagary unceasingly continuing--
as trances have always passed
in my youth--could it be this
winnowing revelled in the sky
in dreams in their bright truth
found lost within a great lie
in dreams of happier times?
I shall slumber a bit longer,
to seek out the scatterings of
Life's little difficult answers:
but I age all the while I sleep on
hopes and wake I still anchored.
Jamie L Cantore Nov 2014
A lake of tears lies beneath many with perfect
transparence,
so they face a shorter sentence-for visible symptoms
makes
for simpler repairs-leaving one wondering
at
the lack of animation in my condition,
no
vestiges are there in it's undetectable track,
a
pool deeper and unyielding that
is
gaining height
but
no undulating ripples that betray
the
true aspect.


There is too much misery in this place,
and
so the layman could not survey this without
the
piercing gaze of a most penetrating eye;
remembrances
concealed and unfit to agitate or
attempt
to heal by and by.

Well inward lies the infection,
so
overwhelming crowds do not belong in
on
my confession.
Jamie L Cantore Nov 2014
Once  again
a  visitor
rises  amongst
our  shady
lea,  a
wayfarer­  sprung
from  a
ceaseless  throng:
now  accustom
him,  ye
maiden­  with
unborn                  young.
One  so
calm  as
to  hum
so­me  rosy
melody,  whose
uncorrupted  harmony
secretly  goes
in  t­hru
the  eclipsed
valley,  which
may  not
with  it's
abstained  m­otion
befit,  but
meditating  inertly,
he  summons
your  sympathy­,
so  adored,
to  reply
kindly  to
his  
drunken   fit.

And  when
thy  beam
arising
"softly  lit"
in  pallid
outlin­e,
(for the dawn's coming in celerity,)
the  stranger
shall  sleep
upon  hearing
your  rhyme,
­choosing  a
thorny  bed
to  rest
his  head
with  aimless
temerity­.

You  see,
we  receive
them  as
our  guests
for  but
one  hour
­-no  more,  no  less-
and  only
in  the
month of
May,
then  tug
at  their
ears  and
hit  them
on  their
heads,
­and  send
them  on
their                way!
Jamie L Cantore Apr 2016
Far above we soar
Ascending, into the true domain,
Higher than the stars,
Over the gleaming "caravain"
We must vault for love, -
Into view of all form
In a unique form above
In a realm where the dorm
On which angels do ride,
Plainly gyre;
Where the paramount line
Circles the sphere,
Where differences aren't feared
Where good and evil combined
Meet me then there, Darling Dear,
And we will walk across that divined.
Jamie L Cantore Feb 2017
Saippuakivikauppias  -World's longest palindrome
Finnish language: Means soap stone vendor.


First ladies rule the
State, and state the        -
                        Word
                      palindrome
Rule: Ladies first.

Racecar -Palindrome

A man, a plan, a canal; Panama. -Palindrome Phrase.
Jamie L Cantore Feb 2017
My name, Hombres, is Pancho,
I work on an outta z ways rancho;
I make just 5 pesos for the day.
It is a hard job to do for the pay.

I go out after. Go see Free Lucy.
Then, I asked her for the Pousse;
She just slapped me in the face;
And a took my 5 pesos anyways.

             : ( What did I say?  :(
Pousse (rhymes with loose, not Lucy)-Multi-layered colored alcoholic drink.
Free Lucy is a free-spirited bar maid.

P█ancho and Lefty,( sung best by Willie,) inspired title. Had Pancho knowns The Pronoun z Ation, mighta not be a soo corn fuzed.
Jamie L Cantore Mar 2017
Small was our pretty little hut,
The tallest posy leaned on the
Casement. We heard at faint mid-
Day, the waves quietly whispering.
In the free air, flourished the
Buds; and on the trestles twined
The Carolina jessamine as the
Countryside vivified each eye
With each passing day, in our
Rose fresh thoughts replayed
                            
-Forever.
Jamie L Cantore Feb 2017
Counselor asked us how we can change a negative word into something positive...
I wrote on the board "Judge Me N't."
Jamie L Cantore Jul 2016
Disturbed, perturbed, rocking in a boat.
Afloat, remote, searching for the oath
Which admits sailors into the castle mote:
But, no luck, I don't recall at all, the absurd
Word, a verb, I stall! It's on my tongue tip:
Drip, slip, drop, slap, flip. Oh! I forget!
Disturbed, perturbed, still rocking in a boat,
Because, I was, at a loss for a passive word.
Jamie L Cantore Jul 2016
All love seeks itself to please,
And for itself has Love a need.
To itself, it is in itself, a Comedy
None so funny, as the joke on thee.
Inspired by William Blake's The Clod And The Pebble.
Jamie L Cantore Apr 2016
I composed for my breath of life an essential structure of essence, one wherein thence only this, I do dwell in innocence, yet to mine only soul I may not speak of recompense, for the loss of my worldly investments was of no other's world, or their doing hence: but mine own and I them own. Guilt, I naught did then admit to it, and furthermore would do I this,unfurl it for sake of my lonely soul, or the sake of admittance -and for all this didst I sow mine own, mine own Reaper in mine own soil, much to my greatest Woe! Therefore I ask for forgiveness in this, my lost but redeemable world below.
Jamie L Cantore May 2016
All alone, thy soul shall this accept, 'mid gloomy concepts of the tombs of the dead -none, of many, to meddle in thy secret hour in depth: be silent in such aloneness which is not quite a loneliness -for then the phantoms of the perished who walked in pilgrimage near to thee are nearer to thee in death; and the will of these, the inheritors of this mass, shall thine own will surpass.

The nighttide-tho cloudless-shall scowl, and the eyne of the sky shalt not look down, from the great heaven's with a beacon like Desire to mortals upon the ground: but their red pyre with ire, to thy fatigue shall seem more than some blazing fire, a delirium, which could adhere to thee hereon and forever -an enigma to confound.
Jamie L Cantore Feb 2017
The Terminal Velocity: V= sqrt ( 2W ÷ Cd p A) of your mini van, is a whopping 85 MPH! due to the Drag Equation: D = Cd p V√ A ÷ 2 proving drag/resistance to be too powerful for the 119hp engine in your 3,420 lb van to accelerate beyond the 85 MPH barrier, or perhaps you simply have a rev limiter on your ride.

If you wanted to increase your momentum (p) but not alter your top speed capabilities, what could you add to your vehicle before beginning an acceleration to your destination?
Jamie L Cantore Feb 2017
I speak to thee, and thee is her; and she is thee,
And to whom I refer.
Could she be as much into me as
I am into her?

And if so, then this plea from me
With woeful tear, will not
Go too long unanswered here,

For her silence hurts
But is rare.

So far away!      Yet so near!

But I wish you were
Nearer, Dear!

Because each dominion
On such occasion
Must unwind, so as to be
Reborn in the morning shine,

Returning as glorious and as
Fresh as the new day sky;

And thereupon shouldst carry on
Without imperfect moan
Or sigh.

I plead with thee to manumit
Your tightened clasp that
Binds.

Rest your weary head a bit
On mine;
And ease into pleasant
Reveries.

After all, the dusk has come
To give rest to thee;

And I am yours
And yours am I

            -I am Restlful Sleep.
Taken from the center of my versification: A Poem Within A Poem. Check out the original if you wish. It was  once my favorite. Just added to Liquid Love to make it easier to find.
Jamie L Cantore Oct 2018
Available on Amazon.com for $15 for paperback and  $6 for the Kindle version.
Jamie L Cantore Feb 2017
Be careful when you overly masticate
On what a fukmast is. I am a widdler;
And invagination is far too straight
Away a kumbang for the riddlefiddler.

So I use wordplay, as a, oh, *******,
Does that make me truly a clatterfart?
Does that make me some, oh, cockapert?
Maybe, but it is not really a badder Art.


Not a gem, but a beryl.
Beryl of laughs, that is.            
Ah, there's my assapanick now.
Kinda my little secret squirrel.
Lubricant for the cleats.
Jamie L Cantore Jun 2016
I ponder when so much which grows
Grasps in virtue but a single moment,
That this theater portrays nil but shows
Where the stars in cryptic spell comment;
When I note that mankind does increase,
Encouraged or judged by the selfsame sky,
Boast in young blood; but on high decrease;
And waste a courage on an expired memory.
Then the vanity of this changeable stay
Sets you wealthiest in bloom by my sight,
Where immoderate hours consider decay
To distort thy youth into blackened night;
And, battle I with Time since it is you,
What he took away, I suffused it new.
Jamie L Cantore Nov 2014
How many can bring into being at will
the fire that in the most essential part dwells?
Though the vital principle yearns forever,
it is on occasion mute and still.


In profound wonder,
on days like these,
the total
Self suffers.


So, ye must labor
towards discernment
most deliberate,
and then by breaking thru
the despondent
atmosphere,
can the task of
improvement
be therefore executed,
(if the person is not thereby deterred but determined.)


Thereafter the lowering, threatening aspect of
terrible Doubt is cast off from within,
so as to no longer be suffered.


And when ye do lie
warmed by
a spontaneously
emerged and helpful
attitude,
thence be thy own
witness
to that restraint exercised
over Temper's violence,
and over
hasty Impulse,
troubled Emotion,
and
lustful Desire,
if ye do so choose.


That being stated,
the struggle is then
within
to
contend
with
Virtue.


However,
if at a loss for
answers,
it's less daunting and less haunting
to just ask askance;
for the one who knows
to
question is to seek
and he seeks to ask
by it's translation,
can therefore make
a request hence,
of elderly Experience.


And then ye
must simply
put forth the query
to the
Elder,
who is in the
highest degree
experienced.


So a child of tomorrow
did long ago
pose it in this way,
"How does one find, when
weak, the will to win over Virtue?"


Then the Elder, he sought to tell thee
by matter-of-fact
in this way,

"It is a false belief
that ne'er will the
weak something inspire ,
but 'tis true that the weak will
is something that ne'er inspires."


And with that
he left the poser still
with question,
and in dismay,
for he
never really answered the poser,
which is his way,
in stealth,
to posit with his own question,
which speaks for itself,


"Do not ye think ye must find that out for thy Self?"
Jamie L Cantore Jun 2015
Torn, yet this stretch of night
Is not counterfeit to the eyes.
Purple heart bluffs, as ides
Of each month come hastily by.

Men of conquest, men of honor,
A call to glory is a call to clangor.
Yet still is the restless nightmare
Alive for the wounded warrior.
Please remember The Wounded Warrior Project.
Jamie L Cantore Jun 2015
Words are Powerful!*  Now, somehow, dying are words, this is as sinful, nearly, as is Hell! Dying quick as such - for praying also, sadly. "So if He wish that end, that too is near; grant this, and trust as much as I!"
Dead not is His Heart! True, mine goes on, yet beats hardly mine. O' Heart! Only this is it, as it is, true, (be it Truth.)
Yes! Madder Words Do Hurt- badly so-they doeth so wrongly; and in breaking! Now, is that Heart? No!!!


No heart that is now breaking in-and wrongly so-if doeth they so badly hurt -do Words matter? Yes! Truth it be! True as it is. This only Heart  O' mine hardly beats, yet -on goes mine, True Heart. "His is not Dead!" I as much as trust; and this grant- -near is too, so if He wish, that end. Sadly, also praying for such as quick dying, "Hell!" is as sinful as nearly is this: Words are dying somehow. *Powerful are words."
Jamie L Cantore Nov 2014
Incalcuable wolves in viscious hunger long in darkness
and savagely rove the land for prey, their perverse
fangs gripping and ripping in circumstances of Love!

And to ye blood red and bell-shaped victims, the quarry
of Temptation, indentured to realize days of sacrilege,
all in a detestable binge of Lust; ye must be dismally fond of tyrannical pain, by virtue of not merely playing, but also being
the game.
Jamie L Cantore Jul 2016
OF all who applaud thy existence as the morningtide-
all to whom their truancy is the night-
the blemishing all in all from the afterworld, the holy star-
of all who, wailing, bless thee constantly for the tunnel light-
for Life. ah! above all, Life. for the awakening of
deeply concealed Faith in verity-in virtue- in Mankind.
of all who they are, on Misery's unholy cradle, lying down to wither  -have suddenly come to Light-
at thy soft words spoken now --- a prelude to their eulogy ere the ending of this thing Life.
Jamie L Cantore Feb 2017
I remember being 5 years into this life of mine, one yet unfinished; and my big sister had a little friend. Her little friend brought into our little house a little keyboard. Our little house for our big family that we lived in for a little while, which had never contained within its walls a musical instrument of any kind or any size, until that day. The day that that little friend of my big sister brought in, her board of keys. I was fascinated with it immediately, but me being the youngest, I had to not so patiently wait my turn as each of my siblings toyed with the instrument of my fancy with horrid cacophonies coming from the holed up speaker beneath holes placed there for sound passage. I was a quiet mouse of a lad back then, but I wanted to scream at my lung tops, " For the love of all that is sacred! can you cease hitting those thingies little friend of big sister calls keys?" I was patient in those days of youth, but I have always been annoyed by clangor and repetition. Finally, after all others, I got my chance to have my hand on those plastic keys which beckoned me from the moment I saw them. Finally, I would discover something about myself,  I did not yet know it, because I hadn't yet cracked my fingers nor stretched them as per the instructions of the little friend of my big sister. So I did so. I was ready. I was excited. I had no idea what a chord was! So, I hit one key that simply called my name with vibes. I hit that key. I recognized it! So I tried to mimic the song I recognized it from. It was a song that had just been playing on the radio earlier. I pressed another key which seemed logically the next progression to match sonically the song which had been playing earlier. When I had finished hitting the keys I had seemingly subconsciously selected, I had played the intro and main section of the popular at that time song "Lean On Me" without one mistake. The big father of the little friend of my big sister said, "You have perfect pitch hearing, that is a rare gift!" My family gave me three cheers... and I walked into a corner like I had done something wrong. I felt filled with Joy and empty inside at the same time. I felt guilty because the little friend of my big sister who had the big father, looked down at the floor with tears in her eyes... she said, "Daddy, I have taken lessons for years and have played much more difficult pieces than he did, and you never showed that kind of pride in me." I never touched another instrument until 13 or 14 years into this life of mine, one yet unfinished -and I pray that little friend with a big clueless father gained the attention she deserved more than I.
Jamie L Cantore Jan 2016
Put God first, and everything else will fall into place!
Jamie L Cantore Feb 2017
The Weak Force is responsible for what type of decay?
*Hint: I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones. Enough to make my systems blow.
Welcome to the new age the new age
Welcome to the new age the new age
Whoa oh oh oh oh whoa oh oh oh...


Still having trouble? Imagine Dragons holds your answer.
Jamie L Cantore Feb 2017
How is it that space is infinite and still produces a vacuum? Normally, in order to create a vacuum you need to have an enclosed space. My answer will shock you, but I want you to attempt to answer this query.
Jamie L Cantore Dec 2014
All thoughts of a fond wish -into Reality
Resolve. They are but servants of this, my Passion,
Or -This Dear Love.

Often in my conceiving I replay moments
Unpassed, between the hours of silence -prostrate,
Restless beside my dreams dashed -spoken hereof.


The evening glare steals the scene merging light and dark,
Whilst I intend to let her perceive my intent of heart, my Feelings buried deeper than she could e'er know.

Many woes hath she for her years, therefore how can
I let her wear these troubled fears alongside me in this
Chamber of guarded Hurt, or this secret abode?

And sometimes from this wild hearth, I ponder my own
Worth when compared to hers. She could hath my all.
Will it be enough?      -I do not pretend to know.
Jamie L Cantore Feb 2017
"Everyone has issues, even if we don't subscribe to them."
Came up with this in response to someone in group therapy.
Jamie L Cantore Nov 2014
"Fearless flights of the imagination
do exalt my spiritual vitality
and this reduces the coarseness
           of my character."*      
                                              ­          -J.L. Cantore
Jamie L Cantore Dec 2014
Angel
     of
my paragon
purpose restored,
    my
professor
  who
      is
possessor
of those
twin
   Lilliputian eyes
   that
flare forever
and outpour with the
radiance
    of
raging effusive fires;
you hath engaged
     my
existent pen again,
and chased away
        the
cerebral creatures
that scowl,
scorn,
and when their voices
would blend,
      speak
              to
      me
as
     one
intrusive liar.
Their
pure evil
      features
would
      glare
upon    me
   then,
t
       a
u
      t
with
abusive ire!

But since I have been reborn!

N
    o
w
           with
my intrepid
ideas
unburdened,
              my
attendant
that
    ha­s
ascended
shall soon
yield
     her
misty
       wispy
pinions
       to
the
generated
whirlwind
-a whirlwind        that
she
         herself
did
     create-
                 and
those snow white
wings
     will
steadily
scintillate
         as
she flutters
     freely
            into
the
    casement
       of
my
    chamber
     late,
     to
             carry
nightly
     passionate
      poetry
to
me.
Jamie L Cantore Mar 2017
32 × 21=?

First digit of first #
Multiplied by first
Digit of last number= 6

2nd digit of 1st #
Multiplied by last
Digit of last number = 2

Now multiply 1st digit
3 by ( last digit) 1 & it =3
2nd digit of 1st # which
Is 2 × 1st digit of 2nd #
Which is 2 & you get 4
Add 3 +4
=7
Insert 7 between the 6 and 2
You get 672
32×21=672
Kid stuff.
Jamie L Cantore Jan 2015
By the aging stately oaks, with their crowns of hirsute branches, we stand. We stand beside these towering canopies, raking and burning the dry leaves which have fallen to the ground, covering the landscape like a bister afghan. The charred debris being borne away into the smoky air, aloof until the sprightly embers pursue. Searing **** swirling round and round before cooling rapidly, then dying without a sound.

In the distance, I see the local church bells swinging from their axles -the clappers striking the sound rims-then tolling in full tones for the listeners within a one-mile range. The ripe fruits in our garden tree weigh down the boughs like diadems, and  within inches of our outstretched arms, they hang.

And the children play tag, romping in the yard yelling, "You're it!" and, "Not it!", all thru the evening hours. A smile across your lovely face lets me know you are enjoying the remaining day, and I take more pleasure in that than I can aptly say. Then we take a break from our toil and sit in the hale shade of the gallant trees, you drinking sweet tea with me, as we agree, we should avail days to these rare autumn liberties.
Written in the Autumn of 2013
Jamie L Cantore Mar 2015
This state of mind, this abstraction or release from reality, has a smooth continuity of which derives from misty mountain tops as my vitality and ingenuity pours like wines, like raindrops, raindrops thru lattices into glasses of fallacy that I could ne'er overfill, overtop, or like this purest galaxy drink to the drains when the delicate string pops, which bearing fears does not bother me, but is honestly to my chagrin, because now and then with tears I feel beyond youthful years, as tho my petals have been plucked; and my color fades like the picture on a movie screen -I can't adjust. But in my dreams thru the fog, the misty haze soon dissipates as a new love cares naught about my age -reality dreams after all.
Jamie L Cantore Nov 2014
The harsh wee calls
Of whip-poor-wills
On the night wind travels
Telling me how it feels**
        *-to be
Jamie L Cantore Jun 2016
Whilst I forlorn did appeal to thy aid,
My lay alone held up thy tender grace;
But now my civil verses are decayed,
But my frail spark does yield a place.
I bless, Sweet Swan, sweeter difference
Deserves the labor of a virtuous pen;
Yet what of thee this poet does invent
I steal of thee to pay it back again.
I lent thee honor; robbed such word
From that vessel; beauty too I give
To find it in thy roses which I ill afford,
The praise to you, in you it does live.
So give no thanks for that which I say,
For that loan I made you  do repay.
Jamie L Cantore Mar 2016
Dance around, around those darkest silhouettes of the day. And in turn, turn the cold blue toward, toward the moving orb - and too your warmth. Warm your racing brain, 'neath cloudless skies and the sunny shore, sure to shine sunny, with sun shining alone. Shone surely without rain: but reign upon the highlights in ev'ry strain, and ev'ry strand of your demure locks so lovely. Lovely for so I say. Say I so? I do so say! Lo! Stay demure and pure, pure so say I so! So I say ye shall stay so pure, pure and demure to me for I say so! So that it is so, that is that so do not go.

Yet I desire Desire, for Desires sake; and cannot open this poem any more.  More than I have. Had I once more than now?  No. Now I have more now than then. For sake of Heaven, did I thee forsake? For Heavens sake! Can I not knot Love into this hair with a Love Knot? Does thee love not me with a Love not due me? Does thee love me not? Thee does not not love me! (or, so she says.) Well, says she so. So it is so! if so. I love thee not tho -not anymore.
Jamie L Cantore May 2018
I re-released my new book with revisions and added poems also. The title is Poems of Expression and it will be available for free starting tomorrow. After the promotion is over in a few days the price will be $6 + tax. This is the Kindle edition. The paperback is also available for  $11 + tax and also shipping if you don't have Amazon Prime. Just go to Amazon and type in Jamie Cantore to see my available titles. My short cautionary tale The Journal of Graham Keats will be available again once I add to the story. The cost will be $5 for the paperback.
Jamie L Cantore Dec 2014
We  stumble  forth,   'midst  creepers,  and  traverse
||        |||         |||          ||         |||  ­         \\\    \\\\\
 the  jungle    floor    which  measures a dozen acres.
(we, the)  (stumble, jungle)  (forth, floor)  ('midst, which)

(creepers, measures)  (and, dozen)  (traverse, acres)

Creepers are weeds or vines.
Jamie L Cantore Sep 2016
Oh, does thou ****** hatred thru her candor truly shrill?
Know just how much a dread you were & are to me still.
About my ex.
Jamie L Cantore Feb 2017
What situation can make a doctor get in a rush even though it would seem to grant them a virtue?
Jamie L Cantore Dec 2015
Gentle pity upon a waning moon, twilight
Soon to beckon me through an eerie tune.

But, Lo! to thee, hath I spoken thus too sweetly?
Lo! I see, cats eyes can catch light -she, my meaning.
Jamie L Cantore Feb 2017
How many round trips between a fire and a water supply would it take to put out said fire if it takes 5.5 gallons to extinguish it and you have a 1 gallon bucket?
Jamie L Cantore Sep 2016
The living endure our inquiry, but not you, ye whom thru

decease roams free. We put queries to all you left behind, to seek out what whilst living troubled your weary mind. But still your thoughts remain a mystery, your clues thus choose to evade using no reason, no logic, but rhyme -and I quiddle no longer upon your Poetry, I am the quidnunc who figured you foolish, a fiddler fond of wasting time.
Jamie L Cantore Mar 2017
What tastes better than it smells?
*Hint: The answer is not corn chips.
Jamie L Cantore May 2015
And what of you, do any here heed listen to my sharp keening?

Do fair justice true, bring import to fixed balanced meaning.

To what place could I argue, herald of my past's part and parcel,

My heart with ado; haste not I tho to renew, it's most integral!
I challenge you to spot all the wordplay found here -and tell me the meaning of what is written.
Jamie L Cantore Nov 2014
Ruptured heart does not want to in this heed.
You've already gone so far away
and even echoes have ceased to return
my deserted screams .

I'm reduced to a trip to Tabula Rasa
and back with nothing, nothing in between.

And if my slate could be wiped pure and clean
you still to me would more mean.

Oh, what agony!          Oh, what pain!

Do you think you could forgive me
for letting you break my heart
again?
Jamie L Cantore Jun 2016
Sad Soul, the marrow of my erring Earth,
Assailed by these bold passions afflicted,
Why dost thou ache so & endure dearth,
Desiring thy self & looking so conflicted?
Why such outlay, having such little time,
Must ye spend freely on a decayed thing?
Shall sands, ever flowing on, count on by
Yet count not thee out until a bells tolling
And then thou gain Eternal Life thru Death?
Well, Vanity could arrest such noble ardor
If truth be spoken here, this life is a test
Put forth by something greater, far larger.
So shalt thou consume Vanity's Oblivion,
And try to come to know God in the end?
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