How hard is it to add a little glee
To the memory to make it adhere?
Easter Sunday, well anticipated
By those with surplus sugar on their minds
And by those desirous of holiness
Or a little fun, free time, done is gone.
The calendrical world moves on, never
Keeping up with the slowing rotation
Of our planet of life, never fitting
Amorphous anamneses that named time
The glorious lord of life. Let's love it.
Let's love it as we ought. Let's be gleeful
In our Fabergé eggs of retrospect.
Let us open and close our shells and laugh.
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