still alive
just tilting at the windmills, is all

benchmarks of perception rigged severe
leaves fine human to stiff foe of the self
complicit in this graceful, entrancing love
yet hop in berate haste with hooded view


no breach in hull of trust

in the god queue of offerings
some were bestowed beauty, others analytical science minds
some oddly grabbed a great many handfuls of diffidence
while others sat on loud but empty wind bags

some come in last, if ever for tryst rewards
but gain
sweet prizes in discretion