Sedens Gyre

No more though I pine, may I rip from breast and thought

This blind obedience to kind that claims all that is naught

What trance belies and thus survives divided from the whole

Ere natures heart must thus depart from customary roles

As fleeting breaths do evanesce in splintered harmony

Bids archeus farewell to dwell in brief obscurity

What balm may stem the march of time, what plea redeems the day

Who dares conspire and thus oppose the gyre of Sedens way