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Thursday, October 27, 2005


Out of focus eyes
Tremble on the brink
Of final flight.

The lights below
Beckon like wreckers
On a savage shore.

Soul's dark night,
Gapes open mouthed,
Swallowing me down.

Sliding into a chasm
Of sheer sided ebony,
And no climbing back.

A golden gate opens
Swaying in the wind
Of God's final wrath.

And I carry no coin,
For the Ferryman;
My soul will suffice.

Unshriven I fly
To eternal rest
Amongst the damned.
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