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Deliverance
by Nevada Kerr


Welkin, last of the great immortals
First of the hundred winds
Shines on the wings of devils
Carves out the mountain range
Drowning in monsoon rains

In a forest of bone
Lies a dead boy alone
Pointing to a trail
That will never lead home

Seraph, cold under trees
Burning with grief
Wanders a ghost
Lost in a world of mortals

He calls to the first of the hundred winds
Praying for forgiveness
For a thousand sins
Looking for the path
Leading back to the road he followed

Carrier of souls
Down long, lonesome roads
Welkin, the first light of boys immortal
Opens a holy portal
Into the monsoon rains
Into the mountain range
And Seraph rides the winds
On devil wings
Overlooking a world of mortals

Written by © Nevada Kerr
June 12, 2003.



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Created: July 2003 © Paul Kinder Last Updated: 16/7/03