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Ashlock: Epilogue

I have heard in the cold of the long polar night
That a wind with no name takes your soul with no fight
But I’ve heard a few things. How can we even guess
Whether six-and-ten secrets in fact phosphoresce
Like a fleet acrobat down a high-tension wire
With her eyes dead as ice and her feet licked by fire
In an eoreum which no man’s eye can see
Save for those lost in trance; save for those lost to me
For that is not dead which can eternal lie
And with strange ashes even fire may die

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