here at the frontier, there are falling leaves. although my neighbours are all barbarians, and you, you are a thousand miles away, there are always two cups on my table.
Sunday 12 December 2004
loosing gandalf
Aching for rest
I crave sleep
The sleep that will rest my soul.
My soul longs for peace.
For an end to the caos.
Winter has come for he is gone
Fallen into depths of fire
Cold overtakes us now
Leading us further from wisdom
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