"A laude of fresh delight" | 12

Permit me to mesh   a laude of fresh delight
my heart would address   the wakefulness of wonder
we long withstood   the tenebrous brood of night
now the clouds resound   with morning's mood of thunder

for a little while   our play in this world abides
for a day or twain   at this maudlin motel we stop
however much the tour guide   quips & chides
there's something daft in Denmark   look it up

I'm quitting the shore   as I care no more for sense!
I return to joy   to discern how it answers pain!
if the landlocked goals   exhibited brute pretense
yet the boat now rolls   across the wine-dark main

where the drift exceeds clear grasp   you can feel its direction
as you peer a'gape at the strangeness   & perfection