Deep seas of fog, ships desperately lost
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Oars already got frost
The Sun is being webbed enmeshed with cobweb
By traitor, so calm spider legs
Like an ancient myth on the crests of sea
Our ark’s trembling on cable-chains
Fog sits on the helm, solitude sprawls on souls
Over the masts a promise flutters, crawls
Fleeting time, nothing you are
Water keeps the trace of sky
The resurrected out-world tends
To strike hard our frozen lands | |
Pictures In The Fog Quintessence
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