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H: Angel's wings as wide as continents spread in it's pale sweep
Feeling the ocean breathe against its' collarbone in contented sleep.

A: And turn uncertain, feathered creep,
Frost of ages, wakening deep,
Cold and sure, blue and still,
Crawl cross bones, the winter's mill.

A: Endless summer devoid of stars or night
Or the knowing eyes of my lunar satellite.

A:Turning blind on blue and white,
On cold and calm, the angel isle.

H: And when empires fade and the North Star tilts
And my last mountain into the rip tide wilts

A: The final mountain, tidal end,
The warmth of springtime, feathers rend.

H: And when I'm but mermaid's froth upon the wave
Yet will flocks of sparrows bend north around my grave.

A: And speak the song of frost and fall,
The crack of canyons, the snowstorm's call.

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