Quatrain Of Devonian Period Poem by Yorktown Disciple

The spoils of the air, irriguous water,
cleansing the Universal Soul of evil
breath, mercilessly settling on all
plants.

Spirits upon request, gleaning foul air,
for special words that cannot drift
easily from the mind, to eternal
dwelling.

Implanted like an embryo, the soil of
mankind, hidden in the water, escaping
Satan's home cooked
coagulants.

Immerging safe and glorious, we now
know that the essence of the past,
gave birth to our spirits now
swelling.