In flesh of clay, a fire burns,
Angel's song and serpent's churns.
Saintly hands that gently heal,
Fist of rage, the wound reveal.
Sunlit meadows, whispers sweet,
Coldest heart, where nightmares meet.
Eyes that gaze at starry skies,
Yet plot deceit with serpent's guise.
In laughter's peal, a demon hides,
In tears of grief, an ocean's tides.
Woven thread of light and dark,
A fragile dance, a flickering spark.
Embrace the storm, the tranquil dawn,
This paradox, where we are born.
Man, a mystery, forever spun,
Two sides of one, beneath the sun.
Digital hand drawn
Canvas seize
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