The wildest pursuits of man hap ‘ere the breaking rise of sun.
Strange and fantastical, there he slaughters and saves,
Lest history herself cease and thus become undone.
None slumber so as those bound by graves,
Whose mortal tellings compel conclusion.
The nightly wand’rings of quicken’d souls,
Brim with lore and fettered illusion.
Under waves of morn’s soft dawn, suppressed controls,
Endeavors tryst of soul and worlds unknown.
Amble through scenes abounding in mirth,
Tarry where man’ll not venture, nor dare set alone.
Dream this eve, dear ones, dream, sons of Earth.
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