At dawn, I conspired with Hesiod
And built harpsichords of idol love,
Chanting her ascent into visions of Avalon.

At sunrise, I rinsed my blade
From angel blood; all hail the
New heir of slow exhales and firewood.

At noon, I led an army to summer’s end
And fought the day, as the Sun King
Bequeathed despair into my striding wait.

At dusk, I danced on drum-beat hills
And drank a wine made from tears of awe.
The night has laid her cloak on dread.
The moon queen to whom I swore a solemn vow
Has whispered me into the elysian plains of bliss.