Puissances'

The Trader is lost in Ink,

the Posts so Visited the Rest makes drink.

The Mule so Packing,

the Horse is Skilled,

the take backs will never dill,

the whole of the Siren Ring!!

Ridden on the Track for Speed,

the Race is likely that I See,

the Natural of the Future be,

for it's so said,

 the Elemental of Bed.

The Sing of the Breezing wisp,

the bearings of the Nightingale,

to the Ferry Men that must have been,

the Keepers of the Coins.

Creation designed by firing kind,

to flames of burning desirous lines,

to burrow within the Sage of Lend,

that Reason brings the Wise to Nine.

The Clam that Speak,

the open leak,

the Oyster knows the Pearl.

The work of the ages,

sanding the made lives,

walking the froth on the better beach,

the footprints are the wash of the Four Hoof think.