I was very unsure of what I should title this with, which is in my case a little strange for usually titles are in me so abundantly fathomed that they find no worthy thing to title upon;
but here I was so stumped that I chucked together eventually what may or may not be intelligible to intelliged life. Hint: the title is not (in of itself) about ends, un-ends, ledges or knowledge; though maybe if you should like, but I'd rather ye that may yet view understand by yourselves what you must, if that be your lotten, or the ontwwinth of your lotten with mine.

Let with you be my aught, and I hope with me yours.

Post scriptum: one word to consider, 'abnegation', which was otherwise to be the title of this poem, if not for the blatancy of it, and blatancy rubs off not very well on people...sometimes.

After-afterwrit: This poem was originally something else, which I think I shall enter elsewhere.