in an attempt to show you what I've learned and with a firm belief that
no one reads this section anyway I write a sonnet to my dearest friend
and mentor:

describing ourselves in phrases,
in prose,
passionate visions flaring in blazes
we fade like the beauty of the rose
withered with age and care
sucking up every last
drop of liquid there
is, for it dies so fast
how like a rose we can be,
our vice, our values
slipping into eternity;
like so many precious jewels
we are the children of the years
lost in our infinite tears.

Penned by my hand on the 21st of Arios, in the year 110 MA.