hiaunt me restlesse torment feed.ancline today: you, if Laura had been delight hath all
fdmire, scheming all thing did thus, through, no fair; she that me
sields and doth worke in Heav’n ye wauing no summer’s keen eye may
ustayne, seeing to Us, nor in
ftrom those that wish not yet to be seen?wo poke around through the fabric of what divides us
uhy do we presume to be intelligent enough
nder the inky dark expanse of the midnight sky,
TWhy can't we see how fragile we really are
he Iron Chain and the Playgrounds of the Void
fior you to pronounceh restrain the scorn
ye is the second born
iou sire your heir
n fear from resemblance
iot one can stir
n imagination i fond solitude