To what end doth this work delve unto
Far scattered, foresworn be thine experiences
Dedicated to such recipients as may appear
Ghosts to purposes unrequited between purgatory
And the gate at the end of the road
Be mine sweat expended for approval
Lest this journey undertaken in vane pretense
Make itself insufficient to the measures hence
Thus I repeat the catastrophic questions
Which led all desires to their tragic conclusions
Finishing their stories in death, sadness
As they were meant to from the start
A meager existence of meaning and hunger
Makes a path illuminate according to thirst
Beget a child, your infinity incarnate
As the historical god banished both devil and bipod
May your poetry be less than epic
Your narrative defy inflection
And the life you examine
Scrutinize you and find you not wanting
Roman Ryan 