Around slips the night shades,
Those blind Oracles known;
Their last pale light to fade
When One's life is blown.
Calling feebly from Night's dark,
Hoping for one last reminisce
Before onset of the stark;
One final Muse presence.
Cold lips belabored cruel
By coming complete loss of energy,
Straining to form thin gruel;
Language lacking singular synergy.
Survivors sit quiet in the fading light,
Not quite understanding the last gasps;
Thinking of the glow once bright,
Now being lost in a last clasp.