Catholic children in my youth
hustled
beneath stained glass windows,
trod
on green and gracious clover
to
make daisies into a crown
of
thorns.
Later,
hippies made flowers
into
bracelets and beads
as
they drank from the pagan horn
and
rolled in the wet grass
from
twilight to hedonistic
morn.
Let
beauty be beauty.
Let
glorious whites and yellows
burst
forth like the suns
they
were meant forever
to
be.
Let
ecstasy run down the pulse,
thrum
the silk and satin skin,
drive
the many-chambered heart.
Let
ecstasy be the child
of
ecstasy.
~William Hammett
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