Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Never speak, my lord chooses thee not



It was the moment when Schiller wrote, "Forsake them too, rise God. God sang, forgotten from the mysterious past, raped though the eons of time where Kings rose to the occasion. I am forgoing thee, my soul seeks no one. I am alone you see

Hail Schiller lord of magic.

The pharaoh wept, his time had ended, containing the gift of rule, his too was dissolved into flakes that rushed into the Nile, if only he knew where man had reached. God, where do you free those in the bosom of me, God why, if he sang too, why am I not with thee.

Hail Schiller lord of magic. chooses thee not

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