Aerials of Welkin: 4 of 7

29 Feb 2008

J. Maw
'He is mortal. Your son is mortal.
 The child is mortal.'(The child is a portal.)
The Stranger dreams of a battlefield:
Morphing blackness, and a tattered shield.
Dotted with milky stars,
Chained and crossed like prison bars,
Steppes up He to the First Door;
He has no Key (Where's the key?), but knows there's more.

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J. Maw

I care not so much what I am to others as what I am to myself. Michel de Montaigne

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