One second-born with fortune out of suits
Overthrows enemies, winning chained hearts,
A house of butchery prunes smothered roots,
Exiled to exit, played parts with new starts.
Life exempt from public haunt – books in brooks,
Hanged verses carved in bark mark rhymed reason,
Disguised truth to be read in rehearsed looks,
Testing nature’s nature, changing season.
False vows made in wine make buoyant the arc
That carries couples to heavenly ground,
Joined hands make doubts even, secures the spark,
That dances and sings when Juno is crowned.
Time fashions all of us players that befall
Mere oblivion, final scene of all.
Thomas Dylan Bolger 