She stands before a taint-less gate,
\nHingeless locks that total eight.
\nA bright full moon can be seen,
\nHer age in years, just eighteen.<\/p>\n
Inside she stands, she can’t escape,
\nStanding tall, she bares a cape.
\nWeathered granite, dark from mold,
\nGray and white, and icy-cold.<\/p>\n
Lonely sculls, line the floor,
\nLost in time, and folklore.
\nThis place is filled with cleverness,
\nIn ageless walls of ruthlessness.<\/p>\n
So many things do fill her mind,
\nAll the answers she hopes to find.
\nMany writings fill this hall,
\nA different language, on each wall.<\/p>\n
Her finger scanning every line,
\nComplex spells she must define.
\nGlowing eyes of transfixed gaze,
\nHer mind sorts through this endless maze.<\/p>\n
A numbing smile comes to her lips,
\nReading through each line of scripts.
\nHer conscious starts, to expand,
\nAll these spells at her command.<\/p>\n
She turns around, looks at the gate,
\nHer words are slow and vibrate.
\nEach and every lock works loose,
\nHer power’s great, she can’t misuse.<\/p>\n
The hinges start to slowly creak,
\nWith every word you hear her speak.
\nHer eyes they sparkle with delight,
\nAs she walks out, in the night.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
She stands before a taint-less gate, Hingeless locks that total eight. A bright full moon can be seen, Her age in years, just eighteen. Inside she stands, she can’t escape, Standing tall, she bares a cape. Weathered granite, dark from mold, Gray and white, and icy-cold. Lonely sculls, line the floor, Lost in time, and folklore. This place is filled with cleverness, In ageless walls of ruthlessness. So many things do fill her mind, All the answers she hopes to find. Many writings fill this hall, A different language, on each wall. Her finger scanning every line, Complex spells she must define. Glowing eyes of transfixed gaze, Her mind sorts through this endless maze. A numbing smile comes to her lips, Reading through each line of scripts. Her conscious starts, to expand, All these spells at her command. She turns around, looks at the gate, Her words are slow and vibrate. Each and every lock works loose, Her power’s great, she can’t misuse. The hinges start to slowly creak, With every word you hear her speak. Her eyes they sparkle with delight, As she walks out, in the night.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":148,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"iawp_total_views":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5993","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5993","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/148"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5993"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5993\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5993"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5993"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5993"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}