Acroteria
When I dream, my Dreams are spiced with Sodium
That is dripping down thy Spine every time you tremble
Impossible to distinguish is the finest Darkness
From every chaotically rearranged Thread of Coal
Framing thy Face, thou, Princess descended from the Times
While Marble was still pale and the Olive wild
Acroteria still consisting just of fresh Flowers
Arranged as carefully as the inevitable Causality of our Love
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