Come the idle hour of midnight
Shadows rise into the hollow
Beckoning the toilsome plight
To reckon through the isle in wallow
Seas succumb to fate’s abandon
Churning brisk aberrant tides
Writhing in our indignation
Spindly wraiths with spiraling eyes
Ashen petals land subduing
Withered hopes of exaltation
Bleak as truth doth summon rue
Pray our embrace bequeath salvation
Embrace
Max, or Not 