Honing crisply honour-bells
silver-charred and dusted thoughts
alight with the thousand notes
and woe-bygones
and ill-betides:
these nights of fated rue –

Called to join and to conjoin
this solemn incense scent to heaven
while shaken pyres
and innocent liars
twist mistaken tongues
consented:
in memorium to–

*Humanity's Nature.