On the edge of paradise,
woeful tears fall, cold as ice.
On that edge where I stand still,
ashen whips jut onto my will.
On that edge you sear my helm!
Kibble it like a spider; overwhelm!
Steering through many an eve.
Conceive, weave, cleave then grieve!
Render and espouse; knight and serf.
Guardian of your tear, gate, and turf.
Enact then re-enact my astral...
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