Parvum Opus

I will not threadbare my off-white soul 

to you and your coveted eminence

in search of everlasting rote grandstanding 

on what stood for an imposing bearing wall,

evading evolution for the nonce, 

neglecting lateral forces like wind 

with cinders blistering the frame, the same

still shoulders minding the store of gizmos 

within the cosmos, skittering from center

stage in stages invisible though

palpable as parole, that permission

to elapse in formation once bought into

now and at the hour the dour endpoint 

of our unwanted rest versus the quest 

for nubile singling out the singing

alto voice distinctive matter of choice.