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Thursday, September 15, 2005
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A thick vail, the darkness coalesse,
A tinge of hue the blackness lingers,
The thick web of anticipation, gnawing the expectant,
The faint whisper of steel,
The cold and damp ever thickens,
Yet I keep my step.
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Neither will I slow or speed,
But it comes steadily and constant,
The oily presence fouls all existence,
The grasp of liquid iron,
Awaiting the weary, the weak,
I still fight.
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But I too feel it,
So does that darkness,
AKnowing my time is soon,
Wen I lose my volition,
My vigor melts away,
Fatigue sets in, drowning in my own sweat.
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It will cease me, possess my beaing,
But it knows, for it too fights for me
That I belong to the Lord.
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