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The Epitaph

an empty grave shaded by a fallen tree marked nameless standing stones


a laugh a misunderstood romance a relation to the enlightenment felt, I


wouldn't dare say in the face of a reflective fountain's still embodiment


there is an immeasurable number of grains of sand in time's hourglass, yet


within the glass of Death, all is to be counted, all is, never was there it before


unto the song of myself, introduction of forbidden entrancement, hyponotized


within the labryronth of sin, lightenining striking the headstone, igniting upon


the mountain, darkness of the royal sanctuary lives for thee and thee alone


for each depth reached the long way around, I wouldn't believe a thing they say


not one sips from the grail twice, nor, could a thousand rainfalls of each a thousand


drops of dew on the grassleaves beneath the floorboards through the other side of


WHOM

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