\"Who are you?\" said he, -
Tiny, weak and faint.
Cursing his wretched chemistry,
Lament, to reacquaint.
A seeping mist intruded
Upon ceremony righteously bright;
Looming glee, the vanguard,
Tragedy: its source of pride.
\"I am he\", says I,
Fugitive of good and wrong.
The balance of the scale -
But a jester, humming along.
Mercy\'s teary gemstone,
The rust-blade at gallows\' edge.
Succulence in memory;
Proprietor, of regret.
I laugh, and I cry, all the while, as I hide
From the brilliance that is \"Today.\"
To weep, and make wary, man unordinary,
Plucking light in the dark of his shade.