A susurration of serpentine servants slips
Somewhere betwixt sunset and sunrise,
Assured of surreptitious searching the sanctuaries
For secrets secured against sonorous sorcery
In centuries long since sacked into obscurity.
Should the Saffron Saint sail south with these secrets,
The sacrilege would scandalize both sanguine and cynical.
So their sanctimonious and sincere stand ceremony
To this scabrous safekeeping, supervised by sages.

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