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Hadrian Veska
Poems
Dec 2017
Pulse
The machine calls out
From the depths of that valley
Long ago a smoldering crater
Now a thick selcouth jungle
Untouched by the hands of men
There are some who can hear it
A faint yet constant murmur
Something wholly foreign
Beckoning them further
Into that primordial place
The whispers of a resurgent god
Written by
Hadrian Veska
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Hadrian Veska
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