Without restraint all passion waxes cold,
For he must lay the wood before the flame;
If sparks ignite a twig, ‘tis not the same,
As pyramids of arbors burning bold!
Disorder is a terror to behold,
The mark eludes the man with broken aim,
For vision’s bind when focused on a dame,
And Truth obscure to spirits uncontrolled.
Adventure calls the master of the soul,
For he designs an epic from the flame,
Constructing for his tapestry a frame,
Investing romance for a tale of gold.
So wax your ears from hot cacophony,
Surrender to the deeper symphony.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-August 7, 2009
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