An Elegy by l’fontaine

At Five in the Afternoon, 1949, Robert Motherwell
A winter evening. 

As I hold my pen, wither
Ing away before my very
Eye, I dreamt of slither

Ing snake take alary
Away from Sunu's zither
Swallowing 'hole the Aerie

In great despair I swither
Away, I see carry the Dewbeery
Away, I see Dionysus thither

Away, away, Zanary
Dissipate into "alters"
"One by one we drop away"

"Like the waters"
Yet the waters evaporated
Due to haughty Helios

Enyo's daughters
Begin a massive toss
Of Antigone into floodwaters

"Musa, mihi causas memora?"
Yet, when the Divine dies
And the emptiness of Ole

Is revealed, Musa,
Oh how can one sing
What even the bastard wing

Cannot event flutter
Will we finally shutter?
Will Juno finally spluttier
Oh, Apollo, did
Augustus not build
Enough for thou?

Art though sadden? 
A dewy, decrepit
Drop before thy eye?

What a beautiful way to die
With the crumble of the blue sky
And the dance of Shiva cesseates

And the dance of Yuga's Kali
Where the party of a Jolly
And the fire of a volley

Punctures Johnny's skull
And the laughter of the seagulls
Leaves over Normandy's beach

And the leaches from the mud
Suck upon the Lotus
That the Venerable sat upon

Lilacs wither out of dead land
And the ruins remains hidden under the sand
And to what will rise out of the granular
Spec of Midas' expenditure of failure

As I drop my pen, wither
Ing... away...
The forgetful snow

Covers my body
The great cold freezes
My heart

For no tell tale
Nor tall tale
Can rejuvenate my soul

As I wither away
I return to e--
Is there anything to return to?

When I finally turn to dust
Just as the rest
Is there any...?

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