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Torches and pitchforks from the East

there is a thunderstorm
rumbling on since a while ago
lasers playing in the clouds
swords crossing in quietness
pregnant in a pause

the sea heaves on vessels
showing their might
against the vastness
of the wet acres
islands made to fight for

the tracks of sailors
long ago mere twilight
in human memories
surface for demarcations
ignoring howls of the wind

the plug will be pulled
the land will dry
the sea will be saltier
with spilled blood
tiny minions fighting for empty air

look to the East
once the conquered
will conquer
quiet in channels
seen in lights everyday

the sons of the sun will cower
as the children of plenty
march on to and through
the forbidden city

Behold the mating of the Eagle
behind the pearly curtains.
Written by Grace (IDryad)
Published
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