Waiting for...Inside a hole,In shadows darkened with solitude,I sat a quiet still.I hear the voices of the mad dead,Those illustrious art weavers-An aura swept, so chilled and new,Flooding membrane into depths.I look into the void.Lights.Green dominates,Red bursts like flamesOf a high intensity, Scorch direction.Life.Through the wind filled canopies above me,I see the sky, they are as unclear as my mind.I peer further out of the earth to see vast hillsides,A desolate wasteland, windswept,Void of life barring the sentinels above. Bare as my existenceA soul still remains.I bend and break my bondage to the soil,Brittle, rusting, an
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