AtLast_[07]

Dances of ancients Affirm what is gone. In monotonous taunt Of metered collusion Lull and lullaby

Conclude in delusion. From the nub of least To the breadth of most, Brawn to bone Perpetually drawn To and through the maw of Kronos. Which eyes, dispatched, now guard the moon? That dragging fissure is never through Craving on and on and on as you Sing into the vacuum. Into that spread We lapse in chant,

Ascending when we can In requiem when we cant. From children's tongues In comforting measure Artful deception Enticingly pleasures From elder rounds through Amber sauce Heartening words as sound as froth. Inarticulate of particulate,

Mugs held up, Don't hold up.

All, children at the bags of Fat. Blown, as foam, away like that.

As repetitious notion mires Vision's wistful scission tires.