MrIntrepid
New member
This was on my mind for a while and I was so concerned with getting it absolutely perfect I almost didn't bother to do it. Procrastination be damned.
Tranquil and picturesque as a breeze-blown perennial,
As cool as ice, perpetually 25 degrees reigning for millenia,
Clad in black flowing satin to match the splendor of his locks,
No stranger to cunning, more clever than any fox,
Wisdom not to be outdone by the Good Prince's vigor, he runs with the bulls,
He calls his best friend Taurus,
May to April I speak of his grace, in terms of his divinity to the tarot I face,
A seven of pentacles is of the wisdom I've drawn,
Speaking of the path and journey before the destination beyond,
Patience and tenacity are required for his reward,
Fickle can be Saturn, at times a dreadful bore,
The feminine they clamour, yearning for his attention,
Incited upon his whim, following his direction,
The potent energy of Red flitters through the air,
So frightfully powerful, speading gratuitous cheer,
Bare flesh it frolics through the fields of the flowers,
Hyacinth-tickled skin knows of no finer hour,
Machinations of Mother Earth he knows all too well,
He weaves together the strings of both women and men,
He has studied their hearts and found them as malleable as Lead,
And with grace true to form, the good Prince sculpts them -- they swell,
At the first light of Dawn he returns to his legions,
The loyal sixty aptly placed beneath him,
Saturn knows no rest thus Lord Set knows no slumber,
I should hope to be as he in my finest hour.
Tranquil and picturesque as a breeze-blown perennial,
As cool as ice, perpetually 25 degrees reigning for millenia,
Clad in black flowing satin to match the splendor of his locks,
No stranger to cunning, more clever than any fox,
Wisdom not to be outdone by the Good Prince's vigor, he runs with the bulls,
He calls his best friend Taurus,
May to April I speak of his grace, in terms of his divinity to the tarot I face,
A seven of pentacles is of the wisdom I've drawn,
Speaking of the path and journey before the destination beyond,
Patience and tenacity are required for his reward,
Fickle can be Saturn, at times a dreadful bore,
The feminine they clamour, yearning for his attention,
Incited upon his whim, following his direction,
The potent energy of Red flitters through the air,
So frightfully powerful, speading gratuitous cheer,
Bare flesh it frolics through the fields of the flowers,
Hyacinth-tickled skin knows of no finer hour,
Machinations of Mother Earth he knows all too well,
He weaves together the strings of both women and men,
He has studied their hearts and found them as malleable as Lead,
And with grace true to form, the good Prince sculpts them -- they swell,
At the first light of Dawn he returns to his legions,
The loyal sixty aptly placed beneath him,
Saturn knows no rest thus Lord Set knows no slumber,
I should hope to be as he in my finest hour.