I stand on the cliffside waiting to die. The crest of the oceans wave waving me goodbye. Yet, am I not alive here? There is a certainty that this shadow will always linger beside of me, but you, is to who I call. The light in the moments of night. But I no longer wish to walk this plane. I dream of the creek in the heat of summer. The sun shines her ray upon my brow. Sanctified. I wish to kneel by her side free of weight. Her touch upon my face. Does she know how beautiful she is? The most tranquil solitude I find while surrounded by your creation. Moss upon fallen oak create a place for me to rest my fatigued head upon your breast. Run your fingers through my hair while I listen to the hum of the axis in rotation. The winter flock have migrated to nest. Covens dance skyclad under lilac moons. Stones of purity, enclose sisters of Mani within. Sacred spaces of blessing. Great energy has been summoned here. Engulfed in the smoke of burning oak moss, the sorceress tempts my weary gaze. I suffer in the midst of thick haze, she tempts me with her eyes, I have sunken in a bed of untouched grass, where I am left here to rot.
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