Stone faced ruiner, I beg you do not leave, let this home bask in wet light.¬† When the thousand thousand tongues were cut the song of life ceased to pool. Time turned into a vicious tooth. Was paradise before this filled with a more doting light? Was it red and cruel as now? Could one dry in it? In the Rungs,¬†True Names are rarely spoken. These haunts of demiurges clasp together as hands in a great…

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