"The old Fussbudget has croaked,"

cooed the Advisor heavily cloaked.

At once feel the eclipse of mind;

a cleft between chaos and truth starts to unwind.

No disavowal of Death's abrasive touch

could appease the pain that is all too much.

Bewail the monster. Countermand this curse

if all but to defraud could act as Nurse.

"Fate has chosen their son. Feel honoured;"

the ellipsis will be forever more: "I came. I saw. I conquered."