Everything is...

 
Whether through headed mess
Neither heading into a mess
Lay thy conscience known,
 
Writ of mirrors inducing actions gain
Any contentions affecting senses fly
Certain winter shading made of rain
This mask thou wore in haste to die,
 
Never into inane understanding
Begat now Intention motion.
 
Now thee sleep an angels' song
And float on our high ocean,
 
Together we string the sea along,

Sails on a meaningful notion.