Chaos and Law 
met upon a moutain, 
swept to stone, raw 
earth, but for a fountain. 
Only Law took a drink 
of that water; by love 
it, to Chaos, did him link, 
but only Law stayed above. 
Chaos, quite speedily, had left, 
riding a whim. 
Law felt extremely bereft. 
Why him? 
As Law sat upon that mountain, 
loving her every way, 
but cursing that fountain, 
Hope, itself, stole away. 
Upon that noble mountain lay 
stagnation itself; 
elsewhere, Chaos did play, 
hurting Law, (maybe) benefitting herself. 
As war followed Chaos, spread, 
over that wise gray mountain, 
Law began to fear, to dread, 
"I have been destroyed, by that fountain." 
Waters on the mountain crest, emotions in 
Law's brain, or chest, whatever, 
this fight (of love) can have no win. 
Will  Law, must he, suffer forever? 
In one swirl of disillusion and insanity 
Law, and the wise gray mountain, 
despaired; the rule of Chaos and humanity 
was left, minus a draught of that Fountain. 

November 1984