If a glance can expose what I desire—
Invite the glancèd with me to retire—
And if an eye can warm with its dark coal
My chastity, why does my wink cool fire?
Fortune has graced me with the great pleasure
Of feeling with great tact Life’s next measure;
But, why does Fortune from my life withhold
Love’s coal concealed like a burning treasure?
I cursed Fortune and resented my fame;
I sought the Chatelaine’s fabled war game
And I conjured the winds to conceal me
As I prepared to look into the flame.
Perfume purified for me the thick air
And made it light with its vanity fair
As query led to quest and I awayed
To High Tea, “Hierophant” my nom de guerre.
Sometimes, I get a good feeling; I feel—
The Chatelaine handed me a prayer wheel
And, as she poured the tea, I prayed mantras
That made Life taste like pekoe with orange peel.
Perhaps, I dare say, interaction saves,
And, like thin wind, contact does calm the waves;
Freedom has the great scent of rose water
And rose red are Anticipation’s slaves.