with time abound, who knows the rush to wrist
temptation, but no cutting deep or rope to twist
more than the beating heart
more than the tears to start
yet not enough to take that step, but stranger still
as this tale began, could there be the will
from nowhere, materialized a Venice art of gold
and a critique of affluent capitulation, or so he told
then the observer panned, revealed a kiss
a fortuitous gesture not to miss
in recognition of the frozen heart, perhaps more
intangible, a secret afore an aqua regia shore
and hope was there; still they walked away
leaving aureal maidens for another day
no matter, for the deed was done
extrapolating from the wings of one
first a day, then a year, more than a lifetime
becoming a universe, an ever sublime
©2008 Hey Hey
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