lute music, a sonnet

while we are praising lords and passing loot/a lute of ancient times is being plucked/and strummed and breezed and giving noise the boot/accompanying states of bliss and…muck’d

’tis played by fate as she three plays us round/she alternates as one plays tunes that hum/another pulls us puppets on the ground/another cuts our strings. we unbecome.

and then the trinity of sisters switch/for they•she need variety of spice/so player has a turn as karma’s bitch/and bitch turns executioner. not nice.

friend, as the lute plays, if you need reprieve

take pen or brush, and Make, and then Believe.