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The clouds in their red robes
gather round the dying fire
that is the fading sun
The steeds of twilight,
with infinite patience and slow, steady pace,
pull in the chariot of night
Distant torches
of a million marching solar systems
begin to make camp in the sky
Tree perched crows
call
in honor of their arrival...
or is it a farewell song
for the sun as it sets?
Soon the Goddess'
waxing smile rises
and breathes silver kisses of light
and rains dreams upon sleeping minds...
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