The Dark Roots Of A Descendant

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Without a doubt, the tomb lay empty;

a sacrificial duty – inflicted by the pains of youth.

His tortured flames defied smothering.

The embers kept watch o’er the darkest of nights,

as the red Moon refused to warm;

Its knowledge within eclipsed

by the reality of traceable abandonment,

untouched by the whims of existence.

The Forever Man bade farewell to his namesake,

and retraced the backward runes

pressed into the dust of empty footprints.

Reading the tell-tell signs of endless duration;

thin-skinned and wailing to a beat heard only by the Initiate,

Adam’s dance with the devils commenced.

A flourish of dervish dignitaries shoveled their dead weight,

and the womb filled the tomb with silent emptiness.

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