Etheric deployment, rose for which i long
despairingly, a thousand highways might
bring one another to, at least in song;
and this song now does not disdain to light,
though nothing in its makeup can redeem.
Scrupulous Jesuit, my days are spent
keeping track of the shadows i esteem
by service station lamps, by argument
of elves: great ages perish in the survey.
A rogue database is buried there
won't be digging of. Peruse decay
as gingerly. Your minions everywhere
come to me with oft the hot shapes of life;
and i who sponsored them, give them the knife.
