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Here is the line,
The flavourless white abyss
At which I stand still
Begging for the moment to come.
Here, though, the future calls.
It smiles in a knowing
Surety is but the falsehood it breathes,
And on this side I can only take it in,
Accept the coming storm.

The souring minute
Has started to falter
Crisp as a second
Sacrificed at alter.

The mood of my mind
Is slowly declining,
Fades with the times
That I felt fine in.

This is the room
That is deep in sleep
Where the abyss
Calls me to creep.

Figures are falling
Like snow in the mind
Closed eyes see nightmares
That make us blind.

Hopelessness we all speak,
Like happy good days,
Sprinkled with meter
That gets what it pays.

Is there a clearing
Coming ahead?
Or are these the feelings
That come to the dead?

Remember my friend, despite all you are, all we are, the universe will tick on, long past our departure.

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The following comments are for "Abyss Beckons."
by Thea Veol

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