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Darkness Sings in the Witching hour,
As spectres writhe in Sublime Masquerade,
Witless watching goes unnoticed
While worries and doubt march in Parade;
Shadows spiraling in the ebon void,
Calamity slurking into the Lush Unknown,
Colours fading into blankness
As Daytide waits, muted and prone;
Delicate Splendour reaches in irony
As all that is stale encroaches and bides;
Mists of Memory murmuring mundanely,
As Silence floods in,
A Most Harrowing Tide.
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~Morgan~
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Beautiful Original Photography: ‘Ring of Brodgar in the Mist’ by Dominique Brand
Reblogged this on John Cowgill's Literature Site.
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