brackish backwash clouds the moment
where angels seize your attention
but columns of prophecy line the periphery
insulting even the most mesmerized minion
that love denied is the hidden anti-victory
clothed in claims of negligence or scornful pleas
but supremely willful eleemosynary not
towards the fruitful gain of touching
the sentient scourge of sorrow
for an eternity of aggrandizement