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I
recite to myself, and then out loud,
scattered thoughts while I search
for a place to relax in quiet and
comfortable slumber and await the end of
the world.
Summon
me, in the shadow of longing that is your
name, and I will lie down upon this Earth
and howl at the moon, despite the lunar
eclipse, leaving confusions to work
themselves out in yet another form.
Bring
to me upon the words of madness a dove,
and speak not of old tales of fancy and
things that have never been. Stay true in
the magic of such things, and speak freely
of that which bled coldly on the
crossroads of indecision, while angels’ repel
the cries of harm and victory to
whom the spoils go.
For
he who does right for rights sake and not
the ego of men, has in him the strength of
bone of brain, and it is he who walks
amongst the unicorns and turtles. Let
it be this day, even if the shadow casts
me out in that moment when eternity is
full, that I would come to know this,
above all things.
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