To lull a gnawing giant
nibbling upon the slippage;
rather sour to our palate.
Perhaps it is as sweet a nectar
to the one who severs
the silken touch of ancient Suns,
a scent from the dew,
the bloom from a rose,
the tooth
from old pains,
the rest from a sigh,
the shimmers
from an ancient Sky!
It lies upon the bard,
when the end of pasts is nigh,
to lull the giant,
to live the memory be it for a while,
or partake in dreams;
Savor the sweet of souring times.