The
fire snake lisps a pure dove's verse
He
melts high rings; ghouls blitz nymph realms.
A
holy tree roars; its noble wood rends
orcs
grind slave bones and gnaw stewed flesh
trolls
pulp swan glades with steel clad feet.
In
lilac gilt caves Queen Zida prays veiled
the
soot morn gasps to see dew waltz.
Globes
kiss dead brooks; a river bud wakes
gales
hush their moans as pink mist swirls.
An
angel of God unfurls her blue train
and
calls nine stars to craft lost gems
that
swell mute lakes so foul beasts drown.
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