sonnet 1.8.13.

The past is your gauge you cant help kowtow
What filtered fragments therein swirl excite
A preemptive florid frown dismissing now
I should concede to fate give up the fight
You know things work out horrid anyhow
Come law this brings the intellect delight
The future figures that much you can vow
If love is doomed to drop from dazzling height
A gentle show of love would soothe my soul
You cringe and cower and selfdeliberate
Im dragged down too I try and fathom fate
I loathe you dreary yet I dread you droll
Together we could shape a present peace
Of breathing lungs of beating hearts no cease
Chorus peace idyll tranquillity