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MOON LETTERS : POETRY
Moria - by Silmerandir

Drums-
Deep.
They come;
They seek.

We run.
It follows.
I speak-
My voice hollow.

Whip,
And sword;
Golden fire-
That’s what He hoards.

Shadow-
It calls.
He reaches-
I fall.

The battle-
Done,
For they have run.

Drums-
Deep.
It came-
They weep.

 
--Silmerandir



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