A pure queen sings to charm the moon
He bears nine stars of power and love
that robe fair Aegle in high red grace.
Her luna tree prays; a foul man barks
the lady of hope is gored by shades.
As ochre life dims brutes gnaw rent flesh
wan elves mount gems on white gold spires.
Dark holes burn fiends; the noble heart drifts
to realms of God where lambs are prized.
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