Bore me the truth,
Would you prefer
Another arm to use?
Would other eyes
Grant you better
Beautiful insight?

Go ahead, imperfections admit,
Loathsome vile annotations permit,
Squander your precious gift,
Incomparable sin

So many a common thing
Do the masses cling,
Youthful beauty,
Irksome money,

Will tether a soul
Like a ball and chain,
As such
Monetary gain
The earth does hold

Do not shut that loyal ear
To truths unseen and ethereal
To Love, Hope, and Faith
Whose wondrous pantheons
Beckon all to yield