And the Maiden raises the swarm-lyre to her hips and sings;
I’d like to show you a land
Where minutes really do understand
Where oceans crash unto the sun
Where remembrance is a forgotten sigh
Where all bad things come to lie
Music reverberates lingering in the zephyr as the Court turns towards the Maiden.
But how do you travel to this land
Please strengthen men to understand
Please steer us away from the sun
Please counsel us towards begotten nigh
Don’t let god-things brawl across the sky
Thrice.
With the sounds fading, the Court turns; facing their smiling King.
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