Author's Note: With entire credit to Edgar Allen Poe for his beautiful narrative that inspired me.
Up a winding staircase, with little hope of respite -
Toward the heat that beat upon me, murderous and bright,
A stairway to the sun - perverted by the shadows,
As gods and devils, swirl in harmony,
A great epiphany fills my soul,
A great epiphany takes it's toll.
Alas, a toiling did once repeat,
And each failure built upon my aching back.
Determination reared in resolution; - given in blood for restitution.
From books and brains that lament the loss -each one a bleak attack-
For discovery and new beginning, built soldiers from my back,
Destiny bred here, from what I lack.
Upon the threshold of despair, a gift of girl with flaxen hair,
Blood and truth within her veins,
The answer so clear, the construction so near,
But the name elusive, then I whispered, "Uroboros."
Only this and nothing more, "Uroboros."
A mortal man, never fitting, befit of quitting, still is knitting,
A tapestry of eternity on a dying race;
And the swirling sights within the tube,
And the power blending - oh, the taste!
And the ascension ripe upon me - make haste!
Uroboros gifted - humanity erased.