Spirits
This is a mystical forest,
origin of the past.
Here lies the spirits.
They have not cast.
They wonder forever, looking for the spring Ever-last.
It is the realm of the dead.
Despair lurks here at every bay, catching on its prey.
People join in here after long awaited death.
After the last breath, the dreams come to a rest.
From our ashes we wake up to this misty forest.
Finally, we hear the song of the muses.
It’s an enchantment,
spells that bind our souls to this forest.
origin of the past.
Here lies the spirits.
They have not cast.
They wonder forever, looking for the spring Ever-last.
It is the realm of the dead.
Despair lurks here at every bay, catching on its prey.
People join in here after long awaited death.
After the last breath, the dreams come to a rest.
From our ashes we wake up to this misty forest.
Finally, we hear the song of the muses.
It’s an enchantment,
spells that bind our souls to this forest.
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