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The Ethereal Rises
If that garden is here, it is no longer beautiful,
Trained as it is to look up at the sky
And to wait for rain:
The mountains around her are beautiful, though
Scarred by the fire
And the uncountable fireworksâ€'the things men
Have sworn and sold into her:
She is the garden's brighter sister,
And she rings around her,
Protective'as the sun leaps over them,
A headless animal'
He too is in a rush to find the things that he can
Resell, as she waits in her captured world beneath him,
Her sister a bride to the ethereal rises in those mountains.
poem
by
Bret R. Crabrooke
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