Too much to think is all I have tonight,
intoxicated with the sum of gab;
but would I have thy knowledge out of sight?
In this unclouded haze of breathlessness,
I have uncovered heaven’s raptured door.
But does the white enchanted dawn emerge,
against odds which one falls towards thy core?
I have but one intention to diverge,
consideration to another cup.
My way of stillness will anticipate,
a new logic stirring but I’ve given up.
By now I’ll judge if you participate.
If that is what wasted on thought is like,
allow my refusal and let me strike.