Awake, O Mother, awake!
Your glory, an echo of a bygone prime.
Your once-mighty bow, now broken lies,
A fragile stick, bereft of might.
A glorious Queen, who begot all,
Fades away, like autumn's fall.
Ravaged by those her womb helped bore,
Betrayed by those she trusted most.
They claimed you died of lack,
Yet feasted at your wake.
As they entombed you, tears fell...
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