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Nov 2011
In the deep dark Womb of darkest Night,
A Child is born by Dawn’s new light,
He grows and grows as seasons pass,
First real thin but getting fat,
And as time passes he comes to age,
A bright round face both pale and fair,
But then he fades and loses weight,
Thinner with each passing day,
Til death does take him in the night,
The Womb of Night his final Grave.
Bethany Lorekeeper Davis
944
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