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No music’s coming from the hills.
In tuneless air, no voice is singing.
Among the wrecks of old-time mills,
Long gone is humble cow-bell dinging.

They left this land when times went dark
Under the spell against desire.
They left behind one tiny spark
And hid her well in thorny briar.

The promise was, you see, one day
A dragon would inspect the province
And find his way to hidden Fae,
Last one on earth. Such was the promise.

The big deceiver came indeed,
With flashy charlatan’s attire
And foolish whim to rule and lead
The heiress of primordial fire,

Who bows to wings as vast as sky,
Whose flames demand the winds of aeons!
The tragic myth went all awry,
Evangelized to shattered millions.

She’s now to dim and suffocate
In thorns of silence and denial.
Oh, gracious dawn, you break too late
To save the night of lonely trial.