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From depths yet beholden, spirits chanting beneath

a lake of ancient grief.  Thunder of the ages drowns

the day, bidden by the watcher in the water.

The pale moon floods the forest, yet the drowning

chasms feel it not. The reddened snow engulfs my

tomb as the watcher robs my grave to steal my smile.

The guardian returns Death's cold embrace. Unending,

She implores him.  So near, yet unattained, for

eternity fears only tomorrow.