| My natural calling comes in a single shape.
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| Above the five feet are the fearful.
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| One and one they form a lasting endeavor.
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| Making way for the high climb, a journey in storm.
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| The sky catches the sight of a rolling wave.
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| The line grows thick, the highest ground stands clear.
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| One solid and untouched the cliff-face begins to move.
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| An assembling cry splits the air, breaching a gaping wound.
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| …Somehow the serious display forms a charade
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| Moulded bones carved into black stone.
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| Leafdry folded skin on frozen twiglike limbs.
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| Hollow lifeless body and ashes bower.
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| The one ageless manifest, the sole crow’s carrier.
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| The pale light of the mane
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| comes to sweep my grace away.
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| The irony appears in a green insipid
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| As I am rushed to the waiting shackles.
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| I fail, I fall, I drop to the blunt stone surface.
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| This is where we look to find my final peace.
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| As always, eternity knows I’ve tried.
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| Timeless salvation in solitude.
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| Dishonor before death. |