Usidion the noble nite

a Hungarian violin soloist went on a 

voyage

to discover who in a village knew his kind

over the mountains, deep into mountain grind

here, he stumbled upon a cave
where at the door there was sage

music rose from the sweet smell as the sage danced

it moved lifting it's roots out
shaking
hula-hulu-hoopa doodoo

little mice plucked out ducklings from a cloud
to put the Sir Usidion in a trance

selene had blue eyes
she'd be his demise
shoddy lies 
his folly lie in his mind, thinking to already be wise

the movement of their feet made three strings on his violin shudder

they whispered to the shrub making the branches rise

fog grazed the leaves 
a flutter

there was nothing he could do

ado, ado, he would soon be done

he became the fog, engulfed in blue

only a dim light pokes through

he sits inside of a peanut sized sun, new

afraid 
rotting
a life gone askew

frightened of living in erode

firing smooth spheres causing a perpetual miscue.