| All the world was a dream I couldn’t shake — in a midnight reverie of which
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| I’ll never wake — that started mundane enough with an incessant tapping on the
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| windowpane separating me from the storm.
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| Where inside I sat, me the loathsome fool, with my head cocked sideways in
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| confusion as my looking glass became a two-way mirror and you can watch me hide
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| from everything on this living sphere.
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| But don’t you dare darken my doorstep, stranger — never a step
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| more.
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| No, no, Nevermore!
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| You see, I have this reoccurring dream where we snuck past scores of slumbering
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| guards and fixed that rustic iron key to that lock to set you free. |
| «I would bring you liberty!» |
| Where in reality I’m a coward.
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| I’m collateral matter swayed by
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| banalities of time and space.
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| I’m a name without a face.
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| My trepidation reached threshold and my terror turned to madness — when I awoke
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| I was swinging at shrouded silhouettes and stumbled out the door where my anger
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| was extinguished by this downpour.
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| Compelled, void of volition, my steps propelled through this chronic storm,
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| where there in the clearing — throughout the gaps in the trees — dark smoke
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| flickered from fire illuminating my unease.
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| Like clockwork, seven sisters turned together in a circle, autonomy abandoned,
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| they moved singular and perpetual around a dark blue flame where I
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| heard you call my name: «I am the fire that is never quenched, and I am the river that will not run dry.»
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| When I slept in that garden, Lord did you see me as I was dreaming?
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| This is the end of everything.
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| We’ll lose our divisions and forget our names: the precipice of eternity.
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| I caught fire, I caught fire, I caught fire and you’ll watch me burn. |