autotelic, autistic, assonance-hole©.

An Ode to Chapel Perilous

Chapel Perilous, inner space, fraught with many fears,
draped in customs made by ourselves, over many years
its mottled shadows and sights may turn all joy to tears
hold but to wisdom, which, cast on worries, resolutely clears

In the deeps of thought, when new objects of desire be meet,
history and hopeful thought, for ascendancy, clash and compete;
as if either are more than ghosts, or the moment not replete
with the truth of possibility unfettered, joys only we can cheat

Vista of delights, set upon by the frightened footed
turn to muddy ruts, ravaged, all the possibilities, mooted
then, to at last be at ease, the trove of treasured chance, looted,
act as if foreseen and known, rather than by it, firmly booted

Upon the refectory walls, these scenes of shadow-boxing abound,
we beset upon ourselves, forever the forever foxing, running it aground
then blame the riven one, accursed and damned as if to counter the sound
of ramparts ringing with truth’s conviction, while denials we expound

So now, this is how, the human animal strives and writhes for a chance to gain;
o’er patterns of past and physiology; a harness against which each we strain,
to try, to try, to try and to fail, to fail, to fail, and still, rise to try again,
each circle within the chapel’s walls, ritual and prayer against memory’s stain

Chapel Perilous, inner space, the canvas upon which we each paint our dreams;
in the colors of our deepest delights or by the shadows of our sincerest screams;
still remains an innocent blank, awaiting creation, regardless we often think it seems,
shaped or affected by incessant patters of individual madness and so many memes

Pedagogic mind, so bound by thought, in skepticism and sad,
would make marathon of such moments and, by it, be itself driven mad;
oh wiser, make merry before all memory; turn hope’s light upon shadows drab,
at last ascend the throne, your world entire, and in its sovereignty, be fully clad