The King is mad

The King is mad – the end is nigh;

death will rain from blackened sky.

The guilt is ours, we caused the fall

when we first answered Mammon’s call.

The answer lies within the trees

and gentle folk on bended knees.

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About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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