Upon a touch of darkness, daylight killed another. A beguiling light of profound disarray; where O was ye yesterday? For second chance a gander as time commits a blunder. Where O where – that shadow goes – to stage foul play, tomorrow? Nay! So prayer finds another; sorrow, another hand it meets… That saints and demons shall never greet nor shake gestures of display. O come the mighty and low, for all shall know decay, that even sand must obey! I pray we never meet nor discuss the works of Man, because I too know… You killed a man.