Life has to rhyme...

Life has to rhyme, with each sunken sun,
for each a different chime, Life, life has to rhyme...
By each verse inside my grasp,
For each and all, worlds inside my lines,
Bereft of words, streams seem parched,
Bereft of tone, songs and poems are lame,
Bereft of rhyme, your eyes are empty lines,
Life has to rhyme, so dance aptly, and prance
Inside my empty mind, engulf this ol' heart
Bestow upon clouds, human hands, and words,
With what God to human clay has endowed.
Instill the spirits of song with love,
Remake play with bitterness overdone,
Fuse it with what fuels the sun...

Perpetum mobilo, whereon swings are cuts,
Composition for master's violoncello,
Stalls our dead - beating hearts.
Lustful, and consumed by passion,
Entranced Master inculcates eyes
Hearts to incise,
But oh! In repetition to rhyme!

Caught the wind in back, by stigma etched,
Every guise upon landmarks, is verse in wretched mind.
Rain or wind, rhyme! Sunned or bleak rhyme!

By the pines, through the dark veil of night,
Endue this canvas of masterless art,
Which solemnly maketh thou,
Of formless mass, which shaped minds,
Trapped by time's reverberation aloud.

I traveled through time - spasm of trenched ebb,
Sucked into nothingness - self-procreated,
Forced guise upon remembrance - is all that separated worlds,
And by particular remembrance, every thing here is drawn close.

By poplars I have stretched, far beyond roots bold,
My head to held up, and all for a gaze
Through the clouds,
Through the haze,
Vagabond with his feet cold,
pursued to escape the silvery cord,
Pursued to stop his hands lining this universe old.

But in itself, every second represents symbol,
And thus he surely knows his fate, would he?
Would he lay his head upon a rock,
And with childish resistance sing: tick-tock?
His hands held silver lines while the Time he did mock
Tick tock
Pierced pearl down on line,
And another one,
And another one,
tick tock
tick tock.