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