Twelve surrounded the table
where once this world was founded
but now was fated to fall
to a council long since sedated

The years dulled their edges
once sharp minds lulled
by dreams of static nostalgia;
nothing new could mute the old fantastic.

When the end stood before them
to be judged for all its ill and its good
they refused to name if for what it was
and searched amongst themselves for explanation

Thus, in deliberation, the world ended
not in the soft sobered silence of rumination
nor the enraged cacophony of rebellion
but with all the grace of a madman caged

knowing only himself with whom to confer