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Gathering of proselytes,
Sibylline of gaiety.
Glum tors bearing mired heel.
Naif seers obdurate.
A looming vapor ever guiding in its ubiety,
Plummeting downward, wrought unknowing from the firmament.
Reeds arcing through brittle air,
Barred by gnawing quiet.
Croon of repose idling.
Untold, uncherished begot wile.
Unanswered ilk of sorrow.
Fists casting upward, unspent,
Towards a bowing sky.

Swathes of earth flooded with unjoy.

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