A tiny death this eve, mine

They instructed: life, for all its meanness, is yours

Do with it in wicked caprice,

Ye shall pass on achingly in small minutes

Sing across hilltops until dawn,

ye rides the wave largest on open sea

Forgive me, dear gods, for this pagan hath sinned

Drowned in but a millimeter of ocean in my final moment

And missed the grand tour prescribed by my map of destiny

Now my slim payment for a life squandered is come due

Indelibly scrawled by hags who judge with neither ear nor eye

Tonight I shall give alms

Or shall we call it taxes on life wasted?

And proceed to my doom

It shall be but a tiny death, mine

Witnessed only by foul air and oven breeze

Scribed by the eve's final moonlight dagger

So small did I pass

Not even a molecule of lavender was displaced

The morning air now still

Welcoming tomorrow's splendid sun

Weep not for me, child

Life, for all its meanness, is Yours