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at night, mothers bathe in the lambent light of the moon, pleading in gutted sorrow that she, the divine, will pluck their children from the raging stars, and tuck them into the carved grooves of his abode.
Subscribers: 2
at night, mothers bathe in the lambent light of the moon, pleading in gutted sorrow that she, the divine, will pluck their children from the raging stars, and tuck them into the carved grooves of his abode.
Subscribers: 2