Orders of the Night

Sympathy is thin gruel

To whose who remain apart

From Love to embellish

Loving, that they may

Shelter without walling,

Embrace without conquering,

Forswear though not forsaking.

Rather pity the grandiose sacrificants

Celibate from fear and loss,

Bleak in their envy,

Whose acidulous tears are

An angry rain of tyranny

Falling sulphurous  under

The black moon of Mordor.

- David Mitchell

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