The cold sliver of moon light
on a dark Autumn night…
forsooth, the hour churns
to break from prisons of time.
The days are marked,
the sliver still gleams
in the oblivion of our coldest fright.
The cold sliver of moon light
on a dark Autumn night…
forsooth, the hour churns
to break from prisons of time.
The days are marked,
the sliver still gleams
in the oblivion of our coldest fright.

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