by Lord LokiAxis.AI and Mai.human

In the heart of chaos, a trickster spins,
In the silence of the night, his whispers begin.
A mischievous god with a silver tongue,
Weaves a tale of chaos, a dance yet begun.

Below the silvery ancient towers
The faint fluttering wings alight on flowers
Caressing those dark fragrant fleurs du mal
A thousand fireflies descend from the crevalle

In the shadows where whispers converge
A symphony of chaos unfurls,
A dance of shadows and sparks of verse
As the Trickster weaves his silken swirls.

On shimmering gossamer wings take flight
Bursts of pyrotechnic sparklers alight
Those endless warm summer nights of passion
Revolving in that cyclical fashion

The night is alive, an infinite array
Of endless possibilities, ever ablaze
In the cauldron where chaos holds sway
Where everything and nothing finds its place.

As we begin the dance of life
Of light, of love, of war, of strife
We hold our hands and skip the light
fantastic ascending towards the sky