“For love of it” we try, with
hoping to bely;
(Pentameter iam - bic keeping us from mum)
(Pentameter iam - bic keeping us from mum)
The ever present lure, in doubt forever sure;
The pulling ever out, the wishing self to flout.
The fear that should it come, we'll wish we had been mum;
and pesky errors hint, of time for lesser lent.
Yet joy and love combine, and give lie to malign;
In all the sentiment, the hint of what is meant
is more than rationale, that human spirit pall;
But draws from childish glee revealing more of me
A fearful prospect that, a tipping of the hat;
Abandon is the way, else never we will say
that truly in our heart, which pride can ne'r jump start;
But resignation wise, replaces truth for lies.
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