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Sparse beneath the crest in savage, graceful throws subjugates of the gallery parade. |
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Burnished by the lunar scope |
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secrets steps of quiet art |
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churn about a poison isle |
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whose patron waits and watches |
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from a cruel claw of basalt, |
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a ponderous funeral stone |
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And in the blackened breach before |
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it thunders around the the throne |
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Cast his presence, His essence a Winter repose |
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Fronds extending, a whisper in the folds |
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Of eyes in the dark |
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Shoals vast and brooding |
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They study his thoughts |
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They mimic his motion |
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Dread forms from echoes in blood |
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Shapes call the night to align them |
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In one, a stranger to light |
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Black rumination |
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Dark mouths in perishing prayer |
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Surround a spire of dissension |
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Arcane - the withering throne |
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Black rumination |
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Tides to his coronet |
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A surf that teems with sly creation |
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Apparitions lithe and pacing |
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The brow is furrowed deep |
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A nature searing in the hum ours |
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Honing furies from the edges |
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Dead minds feed this aberration |
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Swathed in tears |
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In ocean tinctures |
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Never sated for horror, for decay |
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His sculptures adoring |
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The channel of their rage |
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Dread forms - His thoughts are cold and still |
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A solemn vision in the water |
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A soured confidence and |
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They work about the throne |
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In fervent circles, stern and ceaseless |
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A wilderness dilating |