Amusees, Composer of Guilt
In a place exceeding all that may be measurable or perceivable to any inhabitant of creation,
The multitudes of parallel existences are scattered in vast.
Long before ever consisting of imagination having by any stretch been animated,
The Bee combs across the array of potentials as of yet not realized,
pollenating in accordance with whims I dare not ascertain to fathom.
Voids of vastness enclosed captive by factors that adhere to the laws of a Higher Nature at times beginning,
bursting into cosmos of conscious creatures ever evolving unto the prepurposed motif desire blooms animate, what likely extends beyond animation.
I suppose it so as so might be that The Reaper returns to enjoin arms unto our Apollon at times end,
quite ignorant of even slight inklings of attribution bestowable to This Colony.
Exists Is further than wherever I may roam.
Eve's nigh'ng excruciation through times creation deemed worthy of a cause incomprehensible,
my fate lay unknown as I lay groaning amidst the plethora of anguish experienced by people's both now and then,
at least when the beloved honey apple of eyes all seeing dawns,
Whether I go on or not to mysteries anew is neither a knowledge or a preference that my ability can any longer muster ambitioning toward.
Despite, my soul will ceaselessly burn all the days of my life,
to witness retribution paid due to the Athenian Satyr, crafter of the sword, be that as it may, punishment or reward.