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Poem After The Song Of Solomon 2:15
The little foxes spoil the vines---
the vines with the tenderest grapes.
The chaos of skews disrupt the most measured lines.
The dullest rapiers inflict the deepest rapes.
Sometimes the best enthusiasm must fail;
and then apathy steps in, prepared with new betrayal.
Ride out on starlight, and leave the rough-hewn rail
to seek some other asshole for its vacillating impale.
Always the temptation to press that button, DELETE,
and scatter the constellation, and make the process complete.
Starward
exoriare aliquis nostris ex ossibus ultor . . .
---Vergil, The Aeneid, IV
