Hyperion's apobaterion.

I thought Life a Dark Sun dappled river, tributary to a more phantomly spangled tide

& sought, in Love's sans tain mirror, Dharma; not Karma's quantumly entangled hide

For Wine, I never took in measure, its depths will soon take mine

& so Li Po drown at leisure, to the Moon, I, my wits, resign.

Envoi-

 'Tis just, Yama, thy making of Limerence so Dutch a Book, not Death's touch de-coheres souls

 For in thy, Smar forsook, Yamuna, by reflective equilibrium, Har's delirium yet rolls.