In a dismal land where those of old have roamed
beyond the faint grasps of light amidst array of trees
solitude awakens perpetual dreams of that which has never been
Though I search through paths of somber trails
the gates are closed before me
I hearken the dreary cries of birds in the distance
the horizon yields no hope
What is it that eludes discernment?
What is it that evades certitude?
The unknown beguiles me
fortitude is found in the void
Arachne weaves the threads of sanity
Fathomless are the shadows of a forlorn night
for in them there is what is not
but as words erased from a page
so shall dreams be when one awakes
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