Divine wisdom didst foresee,
Wretch returned to bended knee,
Prayerful, plaintive piety,
Chained and fumbling for the key.

Sailor back from odyssey,
Pageantry of prosody,
Heathenish immodesty,
A manque monstrosity.

Dissipated, dissolute,
Weak by limb and weak by root,
Feckless with both sword and lute,
Hopeless in a vain pursuit.

Rapt with Art's impassioned lust,
Dignity devoured by rust,
Legacy obscured by dust,
License ill compares to trust.

Rent by unrelenting ruth,
Captived by a sense of couth,
Endless spring, eternal youth,
Artfulness lies near the truth.

Now, by faith and not by sight,
By His narrow path alight,
Seeking rectitude, contrite,
Emptied and despoiled despite.

Lord of Evil, at Thy hand,
Blindness sees, the crippled stand,
Great redeemer of the damned,
Grant me breath in Thy command.

Penned by my hand on the 25th of Miraman, in the year 651 AF.