Saturday, June 22, 2013

Pia Non Morietur

Unending incursions through libraries of Babel,
The haze of its branches, with no saving cable,
The fallen are taunting through records so parched,
One sip of their murmurs, I'm deeply discharged.

Delving ever deeper for things I don't seek,
Every abyss I unmask becomes a new peak,
That my hope clings to with fading grip,
As I'm slowly driven t'wards innermost keep.

When does the test end? Where do the answers lie?
Oh, Lucious, just face me! Won't bite, don't be shy!