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Branches break, against forceful winds,

in the eye of the storm,

river flowing, over the banks

birds flying, search for cover

eye of the storm,

pallid and grey,

sound of wind, rushing through the lands,

trees are fallen, on the path

wailing forest, still you stand

in the face of chaos,

rivers that wind like snakes through the downland,

weaving their way in and out of hedges,

to bite at the pale emerald sea.