The terror to the inward eye
That first surveys the unveiled space
Where dreams of things long hidden lie
And remove the mask from an anguished face.
The horror of the fallen tower
Cast down in rubble on the barren field
Left broken by an august power
That forced the massive stones to yield.
The sorrow of the traveler’s plight
Kept from the garden by a fiery sword
Put in motion to endless flight
By the furious engine of discord.
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Phew, the wrath of the eternal, perhaps.
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