Adieux

After three decades and a kicking more, I deem it glaring waste and blatant loss To play sad part of second servile fiddle In elite cadres agleam with ersatz gloss. Whatever charged scrolls attuned to pelt With loaded deterrents deft souls that try, I now must with age's ever-tightening belt Stand to trite spites and their swipes defy. Despite your puffed plots sick to the brim, Those smiling streaks quite honed to trim Purest dreams spruced by endless hopes; I must pull down your fog’s fettering ropes. Your lusts-spitting spikes I'll at last shame, And sink them beneath your gloomy mast; None of your snaky snares again shall trap, Nor any of your foiling fangs soil this name. All your trussing tentacles I must bid adieu, Now that I am at last wholly done with you!