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Sorrow's Keeper II
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Dolour Watching the winter sun rise in glittering frozen dawn.
The fluttering of wings of fleeing moths, to find a resting place for the day.
I don't have the luxury of mush.
In the reaching rays of dawn, I hear the rustling of Brother Crow.
To take away the sorrow I have harvested.
To make rain from the sorrow, I pray for the bone ash reality would sprout green again.
