II was with the Dying Dragon
once more for time
to listen to its dying wyrds
we did but roar once
into the evermore,
It was without sound to ears
for silence gathered
as water was poured over.
Yet the oceans cannot
to vapour turn ;
The flames brightness
was blown out.
I too am dying with its Roar
as the nightshade fade
and Shü takes place instead
only a pearl remains
for as poison drawn
where once I thought I was
for I was but a grain
the mistake which made it.
It is only to ignite it
as a mussel
in which it burns then
sheltered away.
As a woman clothed in the sun
is it veiled in the hues
the moonlit eyes can not see
what is in front of them
for all their systems
are fixed, they do not sense
the changing dyes,
as we breathe into the abyss.
For a bluelit flame is
only the vector
in our iris refractures
on skin strikes.
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