Time- The Healer

The sleight of hands,
The prestidigitation of The Blue Umbrella,
It is a call to be redivivus...
It is time to finish the megrim in me.

The Paragon's soul seems to be leaving me,
Is it oneric...
Is it a whim...
Or is it the bitter tergiversation.

It is not Lady Destiny's call,
She slept silently before any living grain;
Joy in life has reached its level of abstemiousness,
Wish I had the wand to cosset happiness.

The veneration is pejorative now,
But I am still waiting,
For the fillip of love at me once again,
No matter how momentary it is.

The darkness of the sky,
Has to be depredated.
Love's effulgence is inevitable,
Love has to prevail.

This Time is gravid with Sorrow,
But it's time's work,
To defeat Sorrow,
And let the innocence of Love win.