Shake. A poem.

What slumber is this?
How far deep in waking dreams
Did this course of action
Decide progress beyond
Frank anticipation?

Shudder under a veil
Of night as black as pitch
That sinks thought
As dark as tar and deep
Into this vale we’ll toil,
Until the morning sun
Casts glimmers of wistful
Hope on towers pert and bold.

Then shake this sermon
From me with a kiss.

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