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The Mouthpiece

None can say they walked with her.
Ashes and dust stirring.

Goes on, this queen.
Images of sparks from whence she stirs,
Never to be woken?
Even as the walker I question this.
Into the long unknown I stroll.

So the bridge she builds so easily,
Intertwined as laurels.
Before the gods,
Yesterday becoming tomorrow.
Lasts the night as
Long?
Am I to be she, awoken?

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