In transient thoughts of our truths sent to exile
Urgent as molten earth, looms at dawn’s hour
Sediments layered in shades of complexity
Granules composed of her prismed epistles
Dissembled semblances seep through the surface
In whispered epiphanies sown of the hearth
Beckon this consciousness in blaring eclipse
So futile are all motions clamoring banishment
Symphonies reign as crescendos cry skyward
Her name doth ascend where height fears no silence
So lucid the path has lain forthright and linear
Transpicuous impetus lifts sunken tread
Should words not express bemused skies revolve timeless
Such sorrowful drops would cut vales through the brow
When sudden a shattering wretched shriek stricken
Streams forth a faint filament brimming abound
And ardent illusions felled softly in flicker
Now shepherd this shackled breast cleft in clement
Max, or Not 