In the sea of dawn where all do well, the calm of his people has broken. Once-coddled infants, wrapped in shades, compose the cobble trail beneath their frantic gait. Ruination of palatial temples. Debauchery of the sage who is misshapen, misspoken. The serpentine begets dear tempest in steeplechase of sate. The incalculable herd of vermin across the earth cascade. Eyeless they stream, dripping roses, wont to asylum. Demented, as each ivory beam shatters. They fall like infants beneath this mad promenade.