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It comes at dusk

Risen to the trees

Everything, inertia

All is black, all is pain

I hear the patter of an angel

So soft upon the breeze

Floating, still, on air

Batting those enchanted wings

All the air left my body

Lungs grasping in the dream

All is, but inertia

All is sad, all is lame

I saw the tatters of her clothing

Diamond crested, silken rags

I saw her passing through the madness

Here before…before my crying eyes…