Tolkein's cellar & Baire's suicide

If this my Solitude's annealing cell- whose ceiling is e'er lower than its floor-

By as much as Xanadu's crystal dome falls below Tolkein's cellar door

Is, of this worthless verse, the wine-press, 'tis only in the sense

That Matter is but the Sorrow of being nowhere dense.

Envoi- 

Peace hath a Prince! Tho' not Time can be a Place nor Space, sober or  Baire.

E'en if Second Categoricity complete its own Turing shroud of despair

Or Agoraphobia's pharmakos could its own Ecclesia abide

Kenosis' annulus kernel is Thought as Naught- or Magi Suicide.

Riposte- 

Greece had a Grinch! Archytas' mechanics contaminated Mereology

Yet, thanks to Moh Tzu, Takeaway Chinese is our Apology

For not eating Turkey e'en if it really is Christ's Birthday

Though, in the process, all Eucharist is taken away.

Siddhanta- 

Iyer, your meretricious Potocki Hot Air aint Moksha's Polish Space

Only a Leśniewski, breaking code, saves Prosopoi's face.