To Seduce My Passion Poem by moon batchelder

to seduce my passion, is endeavor far too small,
as easy as with fakir's flute, a cobra to enthrall.
nor is it quite the boon one might have thought,
as if one night, the moon had caught
between the fingers - yet it lingers, not at all!

to reduce to fashion my perfidous esteem
is useless as to objurgate the sleeper for his dream.
no slight or mighty pain makes obdurate;
disdain can never rob from it's
delight - as present as the moment, it would seem

to deduce the wisdom i possess within this soul
from any sign external, then presume to ken the whole,
is ludicrous! yet soothing to that kind
that chooses partial truth to find;
preferring blindness! .. to a mind they can't control.