Sinful are the walrus tears,
Oh, shed no, not for me.
For ours are lost across the years
Forever in austerity.
Wayward looms the titan tracks
Of lost the sea bound witch.
Plummeting evermore she falls
Birthed again, or flitch?
Tassels gently sway in the dance,
Upon a wind born eve.
Subtle, down below a snail
Scribes his testament to those who grieve.
Distant drifts the night’s last star,
Soothsayer to all below her.
Assuage the squandered, hopeless prey,
In this, they find their plunder.