This misuse of power  

that pulses forth remembers its former glory

Yet forgets the inevitable recurring chagrin

A blind sided bluff,

A wicked rush, a estrus Ram’s thrust

and thus

A captive fool rushes in

The power that pulses north

seeks the solace of the South to complete its story

The wanton whim

The chalice’ puckered rim

Neath pouty mouth

That speaks of stopping to begin

This power careens and recedes in time

Still seeking yet to sacrifice this ignoble glory

However for now it has a hearer’s ear

The words

So succulent and sweet

Or those I have heard

Say my power stays as long as you are near

And one step closer to the strength of sin