I
Even in this
crypt,
me soul wait
no longer! Its
crest burnt-
The Eagle
velt; born of
virtue,
Less
corruptible,
grieve in its
lounge thirst!
The Sandy
Storm.
A day without
rain calls the
storm
Within the
crypt, the
souless wails!
Whose
charming
flutes shall
calm these?
Shall David's
songs enrich
souls or mar?
The sandy
storm.
Crypts; a
taboo for soul-
full,
Lest, I began
wailing - for,
Its greatness,
lies thereof
Shadows
crested our
flags,
whirling
winds;
A shiver to
our darling
hearts.
Minted coins;
blood of
aztec!
Crypts' song;
livens the
sandy storm
From the
soulless; born
of the velt.
Wielded by
the sonorous
Adored by the
mightiest,
On whose fax,
shall its
shadow run?
The sandy
storm.
Raging as its
neon star;
shining in its
darkening
path!
Our lonely
night, a walk
for the
craving crow.
Shall friends
be foe! Shall
mothers be
lovers!
Never!
II
The sandy
storm; the
spirits
journey,
The sandy
storn; an over-
comed
threshold!
Obeisance; a
joy which
gladdens my
hold.
I'll hold the
fort, high
steamed, with
bellows of
men.
Let no velt be
built - for the
velt; a
shadow of
history!
Shadow of
history, in
hearts, it lives.
On the path to
Nile,
The journey
of breath,
Shall I rest my
bossom
The velt once
born, the velt
once taken,
the velt once -
The Sandy
Storm
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