Alchemisland

Despairing for disparable humanity

Tug at the seams, the lot comes undone; rest’s all a screen.

For none will be spared, anyway, according to my creed,

Of this creation only steaming scree and occulting sea.

For all our vanity, vanquished; this godly ennui.

Enlil proving himself a vain and venal sky lord.

I take a knee as the Earth is swept clean.

I will go to you, my Lord.

And so I die.

Fall upon your sword.