O’ History, my grand squire, who dresses thyself in robes,
And conjures the euphoric melodies in intoxicating trance,
Rings again when infiltrating my sanity in piercing probes,
Meets beloved, I and you, by virtue of pure happenstance.
Glorious beauty alas dares happens once more than nay,
Hunts the diapered foe, O’ abominated Cupid by chance,
Shall ash as Phoenixes alike our debris hearts rise today,
In wholesome offerings to but love-struck happenstance.
Stutter words, but no meaning to those which hold none,
Perhaps the fated stellar alignments arth we to romance,
Let us all embrace the enchanting night when all is done,
And give the bidding rose thornes to adore happenstance.
By shocking telltales in undesired casts from love to date,
In adieus, may Autumn leaves amongst the skies dance,
As what could indeed be blossomed by the grace of fate,
But instead hands the gifted pleasures of happenstance.