IT (a cometragedy, embellished with accidence & pun-chew’d weigh-shuns)
{Allegro}
Peers, sing traces!
(Pointing’s trait?)
Back ah!
Gain ahh!!
Gain’ts this fate…
Hell doubt,
Whilst wholedingone
In weight…:
Sir Vantage sought an episodic
.Confrontation with chaotic
…Choices quickened by quixotic
Moments gone, when words weren’t there
.To leave hymn, in sum-sense, “Aware”
…Of what it was eWe could but baaare
About those visionary spies
.Into the heart of that which cries (dies? lies? tries?.. help me hear)
…Out from within hour cornered eyes
Peripheral hints of some hidden splace
.We’d never seen It,
…Yet could trace
…it’s sways,
…Which flowed,
…Wit’ formless grace.
As if from out beyond, yet near,
.It was the way we now could hear it
…Touch us with such holesome spear