Ashen grey is the house of remembering. 
Before each portal opens, 
your faceless bard swoons. 

He strikes a drum of bone and brittle whispers;

With cracked powd’ry fingers, 

he inscribes your name in dust.

He etches it longer than it ever was, 
the curves of your urn. 
You gather there your ashes and nourish my soul.

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