Woe to Man

Woe to man!
Who stands before his Throne
Whose melodies resound in clamorous bongs,
Yet his reflection speaks of illness and plague.

Woe to man!
Whose Majesty becomes apparent before his flock,
Yet his shadows whisper in shades of blacks and reds
As the tunnels below him narrow.

Woe to man!
Whose figure from dust burns with ferocity,
Yet his Noor kindles and simmers
As gravity extinguishes the beaming lamp.

Woe to the man with three faces.

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