How will I enter
When all are choristers
Pitching high in silence
Wearing smiles of faces
Their piece I listen in attention
Rhythm like the hiss of adder
Song of freedom I thought.
Pains as stanza agony as chorus,
Gay as coda.
Conductor they will but not disobey
'ducting stanzas, chorus and coda.
Bewildered I gaze as one unconscious
Why will I enter and celibate
