
that hold the spirits that once roamed free-
I see a black light burning,
as black as infinity's own moonless shadows,
as bright as infinity' own moonlit meadows;
Emanating its brilliant darkness as if it's-
Offering a bleeding hand to be caught;
By my weary hand and thus;
They interlock in a silent odium.
Ah, the efficacy of an opium-
A lachrymal hope.

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