Crusted lair cloistered in moss, a gust, a prayer, crumbles into dust.
Fusses and blares from several layers.
They fall and they know where they belong (from now...).
They fall where they belong.
Rusted lair, flustered winter.
A ghost, a letter, mumbles of the air.
Losses and tears but no more doomsayer.
They climb and they know where they belong (from now...).
They climb where they belong.

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