Sky is the mistress of my existence

Sky is the mistress of my existence
loyal in the folds of yielding space upon space
but shows the dolls of stars in reticence glow
as beauty would be laid to sleep
chagrin as Socrates forsake the sky
and the will to become the wind that never dies
is cheated back by the sorties in the skies.
Still pilots fly forgetting the hemlock that Socrates
did drink and pass away in annoyance of skilful manoeuvre
that is done high and still
To spend the life in mortality of sin and without mast
show the sky nothing but their face as vagrant it would be
shunned and inheriting the earth vanish away far away
into oblivion!

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