May You Live In Interesting Times

A lonely creature content just to be, Allured by the rooms that hide in the strange, As one would see fit to rest with the sea— Where time after time, we pine to exchange. These fields that I lie in— seethe with regret, These doors only lock from the other side, If only the light had shone to forget— The moon may have spurned to play with the tide. But nevertheless, the chamber beckons, The aether of now is wretched and frail, Heaven and Hell will both drain the seconds— For this shall renew my heart— either trail. So, scatter blackbirds! And behold the door! As nothingness splatters across the floor.