Madam Buya ask’d

During course of that kind night

Where I put the soup

I said that I did not know

For at soups hour

I studied, lo, the archive

Why the ash-ed mask’d

Sought to betray, let alight

The ninth lashing loup

And curse-ed King of meadow

Fell sacred flower

By strike of blood, lest survive

She, lost for answer

That accusing damned affront

Wind flutter a-dress

Was that, cradled in her arms

Wrapped in flowing bow

Hidden well, Amnexicon?

O, take my prayer

Amnexis, Lord of the All

I strode the soup forth

Far beyond the red canyon

Past starry knights bold

Into lancers mandibles

My warmed heart I love

For you, my word with sorrow

Stay it left unsung