The Scene of Collecting Souls
Under the huge tree of creation
Sits down the scent of death
On the round chair of air
Putting his hands of shadow
Upon the adjacent table of ether
Carefully he keeps a keen watch
On the ripples
Created by the falling sound of leaves
Like a ray
He stands up after hearing a roar
And rushes down to the door of waves
To collect the soul
From the chest of the identified star.
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