Some Enchanted Dysentery >

Ooh! Look what I found 

'Neath the dust of the ground:

I believe it's the sound 

Of Time grinding down…. 

If it's not then it's worse

And I hope that your purse

Can handle the hire

Of a celestial hearse!

(As)

Phoebus-Apollo, he rides,

Cloak a-flame, with blazing eyes,

Racing RA 'cross the skies, their

Tandem chariots full laden 

With sparks pyrotechnic.

(So)

Now, to ignite the horizon they

Release the snake-dancing 

Flame to writhe on the pyre

Of all the pure and unholy

Who'd attracted the ire

Of the eye of the sire

Of all gods and all men

Of water, earth, air and fire.

(Yea)

All dross beneath heaven,

Judged and found wanting, 

Now piled, stacked and waiting: 

For true transformation> 

For ion exchanges> 

For some explanation> 

For a fission of sages.>>>>>

Too learnèd by half and 

Soon to be humbled, the mortal

Mettle cast to be tested,

Twice blessed by the fiery

Promethean gift, clad in

Cloth-of-gold irony.

(But)

This just conflagration 

Compromising Night's station

Will later be balanced 

By the extended entrance

Of all that is dark, still and

Meet for the cooling of

The post-purification. 

Night's ice offers soothing.

A frigid libation 'pon the 

Still glowing embers of the 

Charred Terran sacrifice.

(And) 

Note, this near-total destruction 

Was not due to friction 'twixt 

Ideologic constructions.

But instead did result from 

Deities dear, dabbling at dice.