Philippa's short stories/Poems: HALLOWED GROUND

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Tuesday, December 2, 2014

HALLOWED GROUND

The man of doom is racked by tears His dark soul rots; a grey horde prowls. Five halos beam red to purge iron guilt moans rip bare woods; St Aegle chants hymns. A fire sword melts; the orc tribes kneel and pledge to serve one king of light. Vile forms rise pure; God tends young faith A holy dove... Sign in to see full entry.

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