Ode to murk:

Rideth upon infidelity,
Ov’r the night i dream,
Gasps my breaths ,
Where are the stakes once i fiend?

Hail of pyrrhonism ,
Braved all my lost hypothesis,
Fostered by illusions,
What my myth once has praises.

Made of black rose,
Sextus and sexta lay
Waxed in fire and the light,
Adieu , adieu , said the what and may.

Let me live a black euphony,
By a mourning song,
Unfold the clandestine,
To lend me a morning loan.

It came to me that then,
Dark, dark , my poesy they said,
Lone am i?
Bulwark of odds i fade.

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