Oh wise,
hast thou no pulse,
thine ascetic
heart
turned aseptic?
Weeping,
withering,
writhing and waning.
Thine blood shrivelled to sand,
no fruits left to bear?
Exert control,
conjure illusions:
for at that time,
while fast asleep...
- wanton dreams came! (Away, Away!) -
...another one
hast held her hand.
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