At the Bottom of the LakeWatch the little ripples dart across the deep-hued surfaceA blue watch-glass that contorts itself to timeWind and wakes turn ripples restlessUntil they fall asleep and sink down As little children might do again and overBut the wrinkles in the glassy fabric are never disturbed for longExcept by a thin, crisp splinter of a twig piercing it straight throughGiving hint to a lost place from countless years agoA long lost hovel left to be home to no oneDive beneath the mirror of the cold and blue-tinted clear lakeWhere weight loses its meaning and gravity may ceaseThe sky is the ground yet to reflect the skyAll of this hidi
The Ship of RegretSailing on to the edgeOnward the sails billowPulling the Ship to oblivionThe Ship of RegretThe oars of splintered ageHang limply in defeatBreaking the surface of a thousand dropsNot a single one left disturbedThe tears of joy long since driedFresh laid to fallDreams carried in their wake with no tethers left to bindThey lay forgotten and lost to the drift of timeSailing on to the edgeOnward the sails billowPulling the Ship to oblivionThe Ship of RegretTime apart from its passingThe currents no longer at the helm of the wheelThe rudder lays oblong along the cracked frameLeaving it to be led by the whimsy o
Oh! MinionOh! little minionHow dost though stir out from nothingnessTo creep about the ground stained with your comradesShuffling with stubby stepsClothed in the color of your deathless devotionOne that leads to inevitable demiseOnly to have yet another form spring into animationTo rise and fall in mindless taskOh! little minionAre you scared of the death you always must meetThe lack of fear grip frightening to youWhen the arcane tower alights with your imminent doomA crackling, blazing, blue blob of deathTo smite your form hidden from vision underneath thine robesPerhaps being nothing but a face to hideous to witnessOr an
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