Alas, melodies sweet as the nightingale's
yank sleeping lions!
Did I hear lions?
Hmm...thought awhile of the longed impact.
Saw none, heard none.
Beckoning within, was the fire that burned.
Burning so bad as the bile
bringing forth nectar
like flaming volcanic embers
seeping down mountains
amidst freezing white balls
whose wavered hands melt away
in the fiery furnace.
Resound, sweet melodies!
Awake the lions
whose ranks now are broken.
For gone they are
that held you back.