If Mr. Mister Had Spoken For Me
Kyrie....eleison - tree-scape sways by cosmic rattle.
Raising all evasive wants and dreams held by restless souls...
Myriad liaisons buffer daylight’s call to battle.
braver than those seamed and pressed by poet's willed, scribbled woes.
These lone and lonely speakers labor of a foreign prose
clarity as claimed only by precision-master's will;
same language, yes, but enigmatic led by flying crows.
Beauty defined by function rendered with an artist's quill...
The flowers bloom when grounded in the gard'ner's tended soil
For brilliant dawn to nourish them, they first reap keeper's skill;
this done by moon at early and wee hours' loving toil.
a lavish vision brought not as dawn's craft, but crafter's till.
Yearning and writhing with a secret he can’t seem to share
Striving, driving, living – the master knows how to prattle
Power of persuasion dims to fate of failure and wear
Kyrie eleison!!! Please let the puzzles unravel!
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