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The petals submit to the flow of the streams

And dark spectres advocate the whispers of inner solitude

The nightshades on which they stand upon collapse, for now the sacred moor of sorrow agleam within my peripheral

With the winds towards eternity the moonlight shall never caress my marrow again, nor shall the warmth of the sun-

As the labyrinths despair riddens all of ancestral spirits within the solemn halls