Poetry

Paths
The trees do not betray,
though the paths between them diverge,
and the way is lost.

Demons
What tears at our souls
comes not from the outer dark,
nor from flames below;
but borne on black wings
of desires from within

Golden Sacrifices
Golden mountain peaks,
frost hoary valleys;
bones of the ancients
crumble under time,
it’s eternal weight.
All soldiers sacrificed to the gods of war.

To War
Warriors gather your arms,
Embrace the women’s fair charms,
Kiss away their alarms—no lament
Leave hearth home intent for harms!

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