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■ The oak
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He rises in the east
this immortal, beast that girds the heavens throne pulls the weight of life's orb across the barriers where darkness harbors till illuminated to the showers of light the world crunches the sweet juice That wills the land to warmth and being. Hidden his outward wings lay upon humanity the sacred scent of the ancients and tale to tell the fate so well that gathers upon his wisdom, his tongue that drenches deep the world to knowledge And lays the foundations of life anew. Born without a mothers womb nor fathers seed to ignite his need he has fluttered in his wayward course and here before you he shines the light Of life's tender intercourse. Alisdaire O'Caoimph
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