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The Beautiful Ones Fade III

Back to the city bathed in complete obsidian,
He sees her through opaque cloud passings
Of a blind moon,
He sees her in blinks of violent violet lightning
Atop the gargoyle covered roof of a church.
She writhes in mournful abandon,
The keening of her faded soul piercing the sky,
Her fingers scraping clouds with rasps of thunder.
To her, she was the goddess of loss and longing
In throes of tragic need.
To him, she was the eye of the storm,
Staring at what she could not see
Through the chaos.

The brown-eyed boy climbs up,
Spreading wings of long white feathers,
Soaring heavenward to take in his arms
The girl with hair like the wind
And dance in the crescendo of the storm
Beyond dark purrs of dying thunder,
A rising rhapsody of heart murmurs
In the dream starred night.



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