The Hook..

The cause of many an umbrage,
The soul of every sacrilege;
It opens the bloom to the scythe,
By morphing the blithe;
The shibboleth of those in the know,
The agent of that periodic throe;
The monologue of the recluse,
The taunt that could amuse;
Hearts together, it does bring,
Yet, one from bonds, it may wring;
The site of awe beyond the sight,
The wrong eschewed, the right,
And the guilt and shame do genuflect,
Before the hook that does inflect.