It is my Will to rest complete in my sleep
Sleep fell upon me and pentagrams burned
At the four quarters of my bed
My head burned with darkness
My right hand burned with sadness
My feet burned with regret
My left hand burned with desire
I awoke with faint memory of dreamscape escaping
Fist to the face of foes, a jihad of consciousness
Upon waking an escape occurred and I rested
Banished and rested some more
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