Holy Golden pages reflect harvest rules
A stage of metal age the end thy will be done
getting brighter as days wain thin
it's strange this place of liminal space
viewed through glass as time stands still
black and white upon the wall
specters of past rule the hours
where time stands still past is the future
the now in the glass standing still
the floor looks back crimson red
eyes of green stare behind your head
worry not there should be no thought
it is now what was
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