Pygmalion's pine for his Divine...

An allegory of my longing...

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1. Of malleated dreams on time's anvil

Yet screaming...

...my existence through the passing nights... Reality melts away in the reverberations of the continual strikes...

that I make at time's anvil to create, but a dream...

And yet I pray to be malleated further still...

with the hope that in this gradual cadence I will... be able to see her come alive...

but am yet screaming my existence through the passing nights...

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