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The Serpent Is Dead

Twilight fell onto my
  windowsill

Demon fire in full
  retreat

The stars above
  glowing pulls on a rug

Woven deep into the blackness
  I sleep

Days grip is unchained
  the cantor sings as he prays

As St. Michael cries
  THE SERPENT UNDONE

The sun has now left
  though your dreams not bereft

Only the night
 -points to heaven above

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)


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The Serpent Is Dead

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