From the Windfall…

There is no more…Rain bites the face like a blowtorch…

There can never be… All I’m doing is lying to me…

Cobble stoned, and grated sand… Here I shall build upon this hallow land…

For greatest in me will not be measured by how much or how few…

The light beneath me shall rise… upward I will lift and strike upon…

These hollow hearts will fall to the side… forever more, gone with pride…

The final bow, before I withdrew…

I shall rise up, dust of the ashes and MAKE A NEW…

From the Windfall I will be give… new breath and mold…

MISTAKE NOT, my power…. for its untold….

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