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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.

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"...making sweet air from my burning thought..."