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Dust filled the mouths of martyrs. The pulleys hang our hymns. A lord in the shattered mirror. Sun melting skin as moon tempted man. Heaven, a choir, that broke all the bones and the flesh. Now the truth be sung. The holy curtain falls, begotten of black coven stains that moved sorrow to where laughter once bled freely. Wisdom washed from the wondering. Under glass skies the reason buried silent. Mournful fragrance thy vultures delight. Woe! Mesmerizing the circular shade unborn. Grief upon fields of suns born of death alone. A lord in the shattered mirror. Whence breath receded from dancing sins. Myth turned caricature in bleak mosaic. Mocked by a dismal and drowning god. Vague conscious Christ’s canvas splashed. Never put faith in a lord in the shattered mirror.