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No part of this poetry should be reproduced in any form without written consent from the author, John Garland, who retains all rights: contact

"When the Host Sleeps" by John Garland

How bid you farewell
When music cuddles my soul
Would you count me blameless
Though spotted with shadowed mesh
Or grieve my essence more bitterly
Having given you all my best
The sun never shines in the pouring rain
Nor creature give abundance to the poor
But render helpless the clouded mist
Laying to rest the thundering strike
Which shadows the demise to never more
Oh painted glory of the eastern wind
Make haste in slumber's gentle breeze
For tomorrow brings a heated breath
In need of winter's cooling retreat
With sorrows many I leave you now
To walk the paths laid open before you
That lead to nowhere without a dream
And lay waste the hopeless led by the blind
Enchanted wanderer, open now your eyes
And give rest to the weary whose fallen asleep
And awaken the spirit who knows the way
That you both may enter into the keep
Rejoicing with the angels, having found your way
Renewed with strength to travel eternity's end

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