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One does not scale then claim the ancient mountain Nor by pretension tame the sea Sate the deep fire’s searing fountain Noble, though futile attempts be. Blood, sweat stained, predatory Alone infernum, lux ignis I stand. I fight with no hope for victory Mine crimson staccato metronome, life’s sweet stain on desert sand. Dispassionate, Fire’s breadth consuming all Whilst ever hollowing from within; Cracked lips cachinnate the brazen gall, Endeavoring as healers’ medicine. Adrift till the last ember chokes, emptied all of malice and slaughter, Peace be that last repose, my nox aquis, to be embraced by night upon the water.
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Oct 25, 2021
Oct 25, 2021 at 12:43 PM UTC
Canticum bellator est vincit qui patitur
One does not scale then claim the ancient mountain Nor by pretension tame the sea Sate the deep fire’s searing fountain Noble, though futile attempts be. Blood, sweat stained, predatory Alone infernum, lux ignis I stand. I fight with no hope for victory Mine crimson staccato metronome, life’s sweet stain on desert sand. Dispassionate, Fire’s breadth consuming all Whilst ever hollowing from within; Cracked lips cachinnate the brazen gall, Endeavoring as healers’ medicine. Adrift till the last ember chokes, emptied all of malice and slaughter, Peace be that last repose, my nox aquis, to be embraced by night upon the water.
turoa
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Oct 25, 2021
Oct 25, 2021 at 12:43 PM UTC
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