An old guitar.
Foreign winds.
What’s left of this room?
I was King of the Fires.
Queen, of Wise Councils.
In a time. On a line.
And my boom still looms…
Ah, dark pen—
My note, now found.
This brazen will;
Beating. Bound.
Blooming. Loud.
It was all on the
far side of
an underground wall.
A monolith crumbled.
The last, great
fall.
Glas…
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