Conjuration of ghosts is done.
No need for medicine anymore.
Poet heal thyself, save your grave for later.
Gnash no more!
Strolling around the House
Yearning closer, to savor a sunny autumn day.
So... the river it is. Flowing through, piercing the city.
Impaled. It has an aura like blood. Like life.
Towers of clouds smile.
Passersby are winding uknown.
I would reach for you, if you fall.
Colours blend into one. One stops.
Ghost is gone. The wraiths are vanquished.
So dances the Queen.
Achingly beautiful to meet you.
____________________________________________
"...making sweet air from my burning thought..."
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