Through That Window

Lying in an augur's aviary.. Reneging on my virtues,so credulous.. The feying fay being taken to bury, I see things called ambigous. Slowly fading odour of scantity.. In Attica, end of augustan age. Wings of Azreal, the martinet deity, I see these, with espied rage. Hydaes casting spell every night.. The abysmal wizard of dark kinglet. Between scylla and cherybdis is my sight.. Seeing through the torment outlet. Through that window, with arriere pensee.. I see me, the ambling ember Once alive, now frozen modus vivendi.. Promenading with flowing ichor. Still with each sunshine.. I see hope blazing through.. A jocund scene,hard to miss. The changing magniloquent hue.. Palladium of gamut bliss.....