What we know from the eve of the storm
when changelings dance in absurdities
drinking crimson ivy from façade of dumb
at onyx sepulchre of inglorious vanities

Ghosts in locked chains alas missing form
hock in slime running errands for thieves
hawking fantasies from brains long shorn
lilies floating in mud of unwashed deities

In all spent Tsunami is but drops conform
terra firma knows to give yet finds subsidies
the cabal of the unbalanced is its pogrom
union of discontents under flags of falsities




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