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Sieben
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A Hart for St Hubertus
My cross, an antler, once adorned the pagan man. My voice, a carnyx, heard in shroud of past and rain. My cross, an antler, to pierce your 'natural order'. My voice, a carny, a vision you might see in me. My flesh, His Wound, trophy slaughter of The Lamb. My flesh, my calf, your Floriban.
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