Inner Void
Throught the window the wind doth blow, to what future we may never know. We blow a cross time as leaves do across water, spinning towards the void to that we wish not to reach.
As we drift across the ocean of time and space, the dogs doth sing their melancholy song from younder shore. To guide us from one shore to the next we drift, in through thought and spirit dance.
Listen, listen my brothers and sisters; to te song of the sirens do sing. They guide us toward the soul, of in most beast. It is there that we all must reach, to find the courage to look upon the void and see our selfs.
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