(being Of Frail Thought) Poem by Mathew Lewis

Snatch me up in a bundle of air,
Don’t hold too tight,
You can get lost up there.
Fame you for thinking,
Though shame you the same,
We’re playing these roles,
But the scripts always change.
Lose you a tentacle,
A sapphire, a thing,
Forget you my intention,
My splintered bird’s wing.
Trapeze me an artist,
Hold life in a hand,
Say words that are comfort,
Bring the moon down to land.
Configure thought mountains,
Disfigure and deplete,
Or wither rose petal,
And rest at my feet.
Just clear pea soup slumber,
Or blow away rain,
Destroy precognition,
And bring heart to the brain.