A turn pending midnight thy heart in sorrow with,
Reminiscences of pungent ache. Swathed within
Recollections of our beloved nimrods, binds us inside,
Capability to see splendor but them has thinned.
...
From a star's view in remote land,
Adept for a creation of tranquility,
Perhaps an illusion so mere for the soul,
To abandon beliefs for dystopian mortality.
...