Try thou... on this we hold
not forgotten never seduced
The plays of so finely timed arcane
the dolt deft cold holds our pain

And crass shoveled by the War
is not a brand wherewith theory
That those that sought fire had
ultimately acquiesced our deaths
as of the Ancient's lore

Sebation, Jebiah, Lord Clavin
Thinking upon those dire chivalrous
intonations from feelings of
guilt to the horror of serving
the sinned dervish admirers
Their mocking of the saplings
that strained upon boughs of
the Saints of lore

Try to never be attenuated to
simplicity's evil negotiations
the hole of cautered placid dreams
have fallen seeking the Sage of ages
Into streams the dominion pours

Our Lost...  sample of the Cornucopia
flayed with written tombs
The land cast to minions
are in fact feeling
as the narcissus flower scents
Their silken upon deviance within
the house of our lord's Womb

Let not those whofore wander astray
Flaxen for the elven hate
to disembowel as stories
of War are shared once more
But let preemptive fortunes
danced upon woven therma magics
with fascinations find gold in the
shadow Fey revelers at the
sound of the Faire at midnight