With masks of feigned normality worn
No blemish or silken thread torn,
Behind eyes of lunar grey
Lying in wait for unwary prey,
Before the mirror of truth is seen
Removed the marks of the magic-machine,
Cloak of shadow cast aside
Titian flame ringing the unmask cannot abide,
Arts unknown but to those trained
Through ages spent in hunting gained,
Mining pits with castles borne
Around darkness cased in a house of thorn,
Conceived without thought of right
Without a time under a light contrite,
Strike offenses arise as if from time unknown
Sparking fights which all bemoan,
The powers of dark brought to sight
Unleashed far beyond the night,
Against itself bound to endless strife
Unto the piercing of sharpest knife,
As those of earthen kin reside
Between fire and lightning bolts consigned,
Imprisoned in a fortress of stone
Seeing all but so alone,
Time will take the fire away
Its notch the cast of the men of clay.
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