Oh the glory of the little bones
I will leave when my flesh is consumed,
the sweetness of the dust my bones will be
when they are broken by the Pendulum.
I shall be ground into nothing but gratitude.
For now, I've nothing of substance to do
but mount philosophies upon my history,
and watch them ride steeplechase.
Ah but you've come to visit,
and a good host does not chatter on
about the qualities of his teas.
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