May I not to the union of Love and time
Raise challenges. A second is not meaningful
Whilst commandeered by a spirit of brine
And subject to petty schemes of the powerful
Who quarrel with rainbows and stars
And **** the spirit of Nature in their conquest
Their sooty, oppressive, obsidian wars
To settle the question of who rules best
Within all time a malicious arc
A tapestry of power's spread
Crushes whimsical tune of the skylark
And of earnest rebellion, slices off its head

If this be humanity, we are a poor species
Murdering Beauty by degrees