A mark of claws
To teach us. Speak to us
The language of vultures.

Woven towers, they grew
As our maps became patterns.
Of what always had been
Yet never came.

Oh how we tried not to fall
And now fail to fall.
Now try to fail. And fall.

One will always build from the cinder we left.
White walls arise from a trembling ground.
We will not stay here in the reigns.
White walls arise from a trembling ground.

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