Peccare! Peccare!

12/5/05

Beloved Claire, if sin has fallen due on me
Then behold! The trepidation of conscience,
That flows and yet floats on lively ennui
And then to feel the sin of loving offense.
But Beloved Claire, if sin not envisage
To who has then befallen this ceaseless pact?
If sin is enraged, what is the purpose of its usage,
But butcher me and bellow this love as an act?
And as an act it shall be thought, of sin and transgression but not!
Peccare! Peccare! But to love, NOT TO SIN, to love you Claire
And then I asked this frivolous pen what is love then in a spat it answered with fraught,
What is not, not to love, and also sin from despair’s fair,
But still to love, and love thy own heart Claire,
But to love, in frolicsome elation, but to love, I love you Claire.