El Dead Tone

O, elated end (a needle-dot on the horizon of my heart),

I, a tended Leo, evoke you for this end-tale ode:

Adventurers of the spirit, eat old Eden's fruit and hear

el dead tone, for it has sounded betwixt your embodied

bones since first breath and will continue to crescendo

until triple(tympanum)forte bursts through your weak,

fatty encasings.

And out will bubble your bloody deeds, aborted dreams,

fragile-hearted fears and soporific tears; you will bathe

in your bad boiled eggs and their hatched monstrosities

will surround you and (at last) you will see them (finally)

you will feel them, hollowed, you will hear their horrid

hiss bellowed cry- el dead tone!

But rejoice, for there exists no late deed, and now,

having seen, felt, and heard this our song you are reborn,

brought back to the oh so vital moment so that you might

act anew and fill yourselves not with flimsy notes or

half-drawn lines, but with life-increasing winds and waters

that encompass the earth and deoxidize dull minds,

so that when the needle blackens the bulbs that are your eyes,

you will shout triumphantly, "Done!"

elated.