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Dusk MAG
Thus comes the night: the shadows slip
From clouds as black as ravens'wings
And silently they glide and skip,
Obscuring day's weakglistenings.
With evil gleam they taunt and bait
The lantern's glow andcandle's flame,
Then, with a breath as foul as hate,
They snuff them out infiendish game.
Though light and dark can ill exist
At once in any givenplace,
At twilight truce, in swirling mist,
They occupy adjacentspace,
And at that smoky border shared,
The conflict wanes and thensuspends
When briefly, with their essence bared,
They see themselves atdusk as friends.
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