The celebrants on papered grasses,
Extending toasts and raising glasses
While holding in their scorn.
I would not imitate, though able,
Those who laugh in ennui,
And gossip over sweetened tea
As if others' trysts set up the table.
Nor would I count those two as blest,
Who as one live out their days
Hand in hand and eyes in glaze,
The cloth of life, that in which they're dressed.
For the truth of living and its price
Is that no life can be lived fully
With heart so yoked and mind so gullied
One turns to poets for advice.
'Tis better to have lived alone
Than to waste each hour twice.
-Elijah Serf Jenkins
BEATITUDE, n. A blessing on the wanting.