There is a beauty in the rose,
And all the flora fair
But every wise Nihilist knows
'Tis wasted time to stare
At lovely things ephemeral,
At beauty bound to fade;
Be they flowers or emeralds,
Their lustre's soon mislaid.

The glory of the battlefield,
The surge of hearts in love,
All these to Nil's dark wisdom yield
For 'tis a thing above
Such mortal woes, such passing cares,
Such trivial desires.
The greatest accolades are where
So darkly burn Nil's fires!


Penned by my hand on the 12th of Estar, in the year 401 CE.