Shuttered and shuddering,
I have heard you weeping in your quiet way.
Mourning the mists and emerald carpets
Of that faraway homeland.
I will bend the heavens to my will,
Carry the weight of nations on my
Arched shoulders, until your eyes
Behold the cornerstone of my heart.
Behold, what limpid pools and mists
I scatter before you like jewels in this desert.
Drink my heart before me, and slake your
Thirst with this memory of home...
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