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A time that once was burning in depths,
a time that withered the mind.

Being venomous, blood,
on a purified soil.

Night on the edge of the day.

Beholding the rising,
beholding these paths.

A new aeon.

Reaching the way out, away,
without finding it.

Beholding the dance of shadows.

In the cold nest of plague that spreads warmness into me.

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