Current Mood: creative

Entry tags:

chaucerian roundel

the meaning of the map

what comes in night may be no mark of fear
all of our hours into one point combine
we do not ever follow a straight line

a thousand symbols speak to us of care
and will not let us our old pain refine
what comes in night may be no mark of fear

we soon will send off yet another year
and drown our memories in a bitter wine
that's not enough we seek now for a sign
what comes in night may be no mark of fear

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