So-called "Ouroboros"
This whisper in the wind.
Forget! It's name and faculties.
Forget! That it has been.
It's might: A gust of nothingness.
It's mind: A hollow shell.
It's lair: A tomb of emptiness
In which only absence dwells.
Neglect this false "Ouroboros"
So vague and absentee.
Whose presence is imagined
and whose vastness we can't see.
Yes, forget!
This worm,
This mystery.
Forget it's wretched tale.
For as the dusk becomes the dawn.
So too can truth prevail.
