darken her face, her eyes and
skin.
The living see her in
flashes of light but it is rare.
The dead are often surprised
by her power,
her gravitational pull.
More will come, more will
rise from their beds,
riding on ocean waves,
riding on clouds blown from
the other side
of the known world.
Many are startled by her
love.
She was once just a rumor, a fairy
tale
told to children in nursery
school.
The candles burn all night, the
fumes from the flames
darken her face, her eyes and
skin.
More will come, more will
rise from their beds.
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