tejiri pius kigho


The Old Frame

Seasons come and go, day must overthrow the night from it's throne and night in turn pay's it full in it's own coin.Buy our hands the seed is murdered by the soil, but tomorrow resurrection knock's at it's door, for it's destiny must follow the paths it once trod.If on this day light fades from my view, the pastures glamour with the desert's garmen

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