Part One

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"When crows screech,
Circling over your heads,
It said to believe,
That your ancestors are there.

When Death comes,
And They do arrive,
Ornated with jewellery,
But face like doom.

Their whispers shall guide you
To the realm of the dead,
Where you face the god, 
That has your every deed faired.

And when He makes His judgement
You are sent away,
To reap the fruits,
Bitter or sweet as your actions were."

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