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Drizzle is our God.
Sleeping under acidic pavement,
granite shades of day or night,
just about the same in a place like that.

Chronic rain is fine by me.
It reflects my pith,
my gray stone way.

The mist embraces me with
cold invisible kisses.
Sexy as the winter dawn
I am Lady Feather Frost.
I sleep with the Death King.
We lie in a cradle of mountains
Active volcanic peaks,
They shake beneath their snow caps.

Gaze upwards and dream.
My ghost soars in secret
silent revolutions.
See me there.
Dream of me with my heart blazing,
waiting,
all hope,
enrapt,
poised in
readiness.

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