the yellow-faced king 再哀詩

if could but love and vine in adjudicating band,

in hollow faced east unprophecized, hallow noted to sing,

the netherworlds cloudy eyed and mud tongued judgemental king,

though yet his sentence undecried, nor from throat an angel of speeding mecury does wing

his head filled with ichor among the clouds, his blindness burning of empyrean blue,

his knees upon the stream, and his words,

fall futile and unclean

 to dead love and vine in the adjudicating sand.

sand to golden dead alone does hum and sing.

reaching out he his empty hand, reaching beyond to those celestial orbs hanging so blue

emptiness he has caught, trumped not in catching the heavens divine wind.

when the wind departs, the lone birds voice grows lean.