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Beset by restless dreams of flesh and bone,

And awakened within a storm fronts lee,

What beautiful youth astride his throne,

Has the temerity to take embrace of me?

Should these own hands doth tenderly seize

At the vision parading upon my thought,

Seeking release from the whispered breeze

Of a reward that hasn?t, yet, been caught?

Would mine own blood lap at the parch?ed shore

And be found yearning the touch of suckling tongue

E?er that beautiful youth above the clouds doth soar

And maketh the very stars once again feel young?

These fortunes hath resided within my soul

Resurrecting the strength to make me whole.

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