Author | Message |
bequeathed to you
pale light on yonder face be lit lest harvest reap a moon unfit twirling sways of liquid lovers slip ne'er to tear apart thine marrow hip the birds horizon melting sun shall slew such jagged egdes since bequeathed to you
and there within the blade of icy cut cease the fragile whispers 'if' and 'but' know once no more these stems do intertwine the spurt of blood-red fruit upon the vine seek e'er to make thine treasures heart beat true and birth the fields of faith bequeathed to you
"It's time for you to go to the wire." | |
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Translation:
a love gotten by witchcraft poisons the witch. put away childish things and practice genuine selfless faith.
love is an actual doing, not a cock-a-doodle-doo strutting for the camera lens projection. "It's time for you to go to the wire." | |
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