The Dark Iron-Tree

North wolf-door belongs

To the Devil in songs;

The dark iron-tree

Born of dead-sky-sea

Fell through fire, slate

Thick boar-skull plate

And dragon-crest helm

Into the Albion magic realm.

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“Another quiet day in Paradise,”

The lonely angel sobs,

“Perhaps I got too many things wrong

Where I was before –

Or got too many of them right?

But, truly, I cannot settle here

Between the scarlet and the spire.”


“Sadly, there can be no excuse

For, this, my attitude …

Nor any question of escape

For I cannot cease to be.”



Another Quiet Day