Glorifiable!

The farther away from my youth I get,  
more florid pleasures become understood  
and less and less do I pointlessly fret  
about the earnest things I once thought good.  
   
Now I sail the seven syllabic seas  
and navigate caesura's heaving swells  
because there is no better way to please  
a mind wherein surplus glory dwells.  
   
Now infested with rhyme's chirping dulcets,  
I've come to expect some order with words  
and not waste time with prose sermonettes  
worse than the scattershot droppings of birds;  
   
     since verse revives like wine from the grail,  
     to see the mind blow...like wind in a sail.