9.01.2005

Lament of Kings

Hark exordium, amorous guardian
belay your pretensions; ostentatious myriads
of puissance and aptitude.
Your revery tyrannizes your foresight.

Posterity rapts upon your omniscient assumption, and
The lye of leisurely companions fade the vibrant purple of ascension
What now bides your rule?
Time, my king, time

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