            1996

Twinkle, twinkle little star
What a beautiful thing you are.

I wish I may, I wish I might
See you again, tomorrow night.

But what is this that brings me fear?
The splitting of an oak so near.

Who would ever consider it just
That you are turned into dust

On such an strange and fruitful night
When all is taken from my sight?

Should I cower to a cave
To avoid the deadly shockwave?

Or should I stand and feel the spark
That burns my brain to eternal dark.    /)ark Poet [AssaulT] '93
