Rhythmic Promise

“Slumber, watcher, till the spheres

Six and twenty Thousand years

Have revolv’d, and I return

To the spot where now I burn.

Other starts anon shall rise

To the axis of the skies;

Stars that soothe and stars that bless

With a sweet Forgetfulness:

Only when my round is o’er

Shall the past disturb thy door.”

— H.P. Lovecraft

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