The unblemished raw of this naked earth, The deep of her velvet, black blanket skies, The sun christening the moon with her worth, A floral field of dancing butterflies. Forked light, like spirits from a mountain's death, Distant rains melting into rainbow dyes, The scorching heat of a noon summer's breath, Lost somewhere out amongst the ocean's sighs. Beauty is but a thought, not ours to
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