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Antistrophe

The grinding wheels of fortune — have had the audacity to curse me with blessings,

Blessings autochthonous — by those passing through the forked pendulum — my tongues auctioning of my oneiric endeavors.

Unearned, deconstructed by my hands, my footing lost upon the sacrificial pyre of —

Fickle fortune, casts her lots and grinds them to course gilings,