From the crystal and dark-blue expanse,
Comes the scent of the lilies—death’s warning.
Was it me that was called in the trance?
Was it me that they summoned morning?
Her pale hands are far colder than ice,
In her eyes, there’s a serpent of dying.
The flute’s spellbound melody, lost,
Rolls in waves that are wild and crying.
Dark, so dark are the rooms, all alone—
Black as sockets that stare in reflection.
Who is murmuring truths to the bone,
Rules of roads, of the world’s intersection?
Gentle God will provide us a guide,
Laws and codes for our careful behavior.
And an angel will stand at our side—
All is calm, neither chaos nor waver.
In the barrows of dust, future sleeps,
In the star-heavy night, darkness growing.
Crystal ringing, the lily’s scent seeps,
And Cassandra’s wise eyes softly glowing.
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