O Violet Hour, not green but grieved—a chalice crowned with froth and belief. You bend space, you persuade time; you spill our secrets in staggered rhyme. The city is judge, the lattice the law. Teach me not how to die—teach me how to confess without awe...

O Violet Hour, not green but grieved—a chalice crowned with froth and belief. You bend space, you persuade time; you spill our secrets in staggered rhyme. The city is judge, the lattice the law. Teach me not how to die—teach me how to confess without awe...