Puerile jabs efficiently
Unveil in crisp transparency
The Night Jar's hidden lust to be
The very stuff of Freedom.
But finally in my grasping hand
Covetous, I beg you to understand
So delicate, so inarticulate
My prodigy begot of Freedom.
Indebted although I am to thee
To my Eternal Dawn concessions will be
But please let me have what is special to me?
I beg you my chance to write Freedom.
Although tortured by festivity
100 glasses (or immeasurable maybe)
Clink their nods and tip their cups
In gesture: exaltation.
As suddenly does poor Whip-poor-will call,
While changes the sun ever over et al.
Perpetual, unyielding, relentless I stall.
And I listen!
Will y'all listen?