Standing before this refulgent pool of reflection
Rhythm obviates the need for a new direction;
Ocular atrocities; I view my deeds in serious light
Cursed mortal, deigning his will in frantic flight.
Quotidian lies have splendid colors in retrospect
See them pass my way; artifices of hell I suspect,
The mettle to steel myself from these horrid sights
My request inside, my importunate yet buried plight,
Turgid notes I play, to insist granting another day;
I for one can hear a Seraphic call when I pray,
But forgiveness that is not ordinary my only asking;
Allow me then to palaver you with the daily tasking.
Beg? No I shall never do such a wasteful thing;
For my disdain shall undo a most beautiful sting.
Standing before this fuliginous pool of speculation
I see him stand beside me, and ask for my invocation.