Alchemisland

Last of the capable falling to ape rage, changeful epochs

Red baetyls like rare beryls signal peril, end of an age

The last page in the diary of the sage, tended since creation

Proxy Gods mortal in form and abhorrent in mortality, made Lords

We return to Babylon gladly, having loathed exile

Eager to refire the ovens, begin making bricks

Hoarse throat from the daily hate.