Sonnet I

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Abandoned on this desolate Hill,
Alone I sit beneath pale morning haze;
Vast destitute has yet to instill
Not lavish grit, but hindered gateways.
Red Rocks and Clay cool beneath empty feet
Await lonely Time and Eternity,
To wash away their outcast heartbeat,
And break thee from thy fraternity.
Yet Barren are these rocks and wind,
Who remain Timelessly everlasting,
Amongst the dimmest light of day, to send
Forth rising sun without out casting
Into oblivion as they march on,
Forever towards the rising dawn.





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