When folio editions dripped from the first movable types,
quasars twitched with pleasaunce!
"Please to render unto Spirit what is Spirit's," saith one emerging
Sense, einmal...nur einmal.
With every intention, of course, of ending thought like a dot,
and defending Abelard at the Sorbonne,
&, among other things, his contributions to free love verse,
Aion plied the reins more softly, as it were
and stood to suffer real imprisonment for time bound views!
But how to stop the ungovernable Infinitive!
One did. Unmoved by You or Time, he's authorized to halt any star
and take away its salt,
one Ratzinger who's rung the chapel-bell a lot for inquests
into the matter of bad Aion-Jesuits.
"To be can be construed as an affront, can it not, to Being on High?
Sense is the Es-sence as Smell is the Sense
of all pollen-bearing Plants, is it not?" the Cardinal sniffed and made
the Earth ill. Now Aion replied, pettishly
but the only thing that could be compared to it, for rhetoric & verve
were radiation traces of God
cracking his knuckles. "To be is to be for me," the Ratz said, and
one more quasar limped
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