Beckon to bathe in ever, silent rest,
Not know the time, when or cobbler’s best.
For this, the crown, all shine and bright,
Would send a symbol, a gold to en-light.
Ponder behind the beauty of galore,
Bask the thought that pierce the shore.
Such wondrous sadness, hidden by joy,
A tool, a bait or a power of ploy.
Art: Klimt by aditya777