Angor animi

The anguished soul, as cultured

As a cheese whose curds have mixed

With mold from loaves left in caves,

Peers out, compound self, from eyes

Fringed with bacterial dust

And despairs before turning

Away. Everything gathered

To witness must dissipate

And transubstantiate. Trace

Remnants kind to forensics

May inform another day,

But the revenants gibber

Without consideration

For themselves or for the selves

That might be formed from pieces

Of the thing no longer them.

The thing considers its end

In the pure concentration

Of that about to consume

The many to become none.