I traverse the sky from planet to planet
because my passion runs high. I realize
the fault of the stars in a careful Monet
painting that the work of critics stylized.
She works within the heavens to dualize
the triune persons and reveal the sudden
veil of beauty. Then she runs to radicalize
my heart against the harms that are hidden
in the day and night. The maker's garden
adorned with his dazzling discerned anger
cannot be true, he has begun to madden
my sweet sight with an issuance of danger.
But everything with which the world laughs
weakens the mere wandering of my youth.
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