Ritual of The Self as a Circle of Fire

Flint to the feel of steel, setting of sparks,  
a meeting place – a quickening of pace  
upon the face of this place: This  
being a world in a whirl.  
 
Standing in the circle, ring around  
the black roses, in dark realms, pocket full of poems  
hurled into air in the wings of tomes  
which speak  
 
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In  
 
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Transcriptions into stones.