There is a reason for these metered lines
And for each one’s concluding in a rhyme;
Though some begrudge such cumbersome confines,
There’s magic in this ancient paradigm,
Which proves, though strict, to be provocative
In calling forth what never would be thought
And finding out where occult memories live
From which surprising images are wrought.
This tum-te-tum casts a beguiling spell,
Inducing with its beat a kind of trance
That guides you toward unthought material
Stoking and fueling your train of thought’s advance.
That such constraints should lead to liberty
Is paradoxical, a happy mystery.