Time Without Season!

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Time without season,

Beg the breakers hold fast,

the old breed, freezing,

is weathered like the brash.

 

A little country thieves,

South of Tempest

Sheltered in Dream,

a sun simmering warmest,

a summer forever sighing green, green,

green.

 

Where here are the ruins?

Built beneath a castle in the wind,

that run thick as blood runs through us,

the sprawl of its roots,

tangled but hardened.

 

Where here is the splendor?

of the Empire out of Mud,

that first broke her seed naked,

and tender,

before she spilled a billion of her own buds.

 

Time without season,

Beg the breakers hold fast.

The torrent hears no appeasing,

and today soft green saplings,

stand upon the path.

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