Death has no master, but master it will be
And the pale velvet mist of time
Will pull and tear the everlasting Tree
That reaches for the dark and damp ridden Earth
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All that is fallen, those called to read the face of death and the scroll of the roll of the superb that are called unto the everlasting peace, the rope for those who committed evil accepting bribes when they should have been at better things…
forsake all that is not black, good write, thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.