Threads of Grey and Gold — Transition

Transition I am thy Pleasure.

See, my face is fair-- With silken strands of joy I twine thee round;

Life has enough of stress--forget with me!

Wilt thou not stay?

Then go, thou art not bound.

I am thy Pastime.

Let me be to thee A daily refuge from the haunting fears That bind thee, choke thee, fill thy soul with woe.

Seek thou my hand, let me assuage thy tears.

I am thy Habit.

Nay, start not, thy will Is yet supreme, for art thou not a man?

Then draw me close to thee, for life is brief-- A little space to pass as best one can.

I am thy Passion.

Thou shalt cling to me Through all the years to come.

The silken cord Of Pleasure has become a stronger bond, Not to be cleft, nor loosened at a word.

I am thy Master.

Thou shalt crush for me The grapes of truth for wine of sacrifice;

My clanking chains were forged for such as thee, I am thy Master--yea, I am thy vice!