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Image for post
Photo by Terry Tan De Hao on Unsplash

Scream fire,
lowland lady,
beat the drum
of sword and shield,
stir spirits
from the stones —

the very bones
of this Earth
sing.

You know.
You’ve always
known.

Wildflowers, clovers, weeds,
tangled up in meadow’s veins;
she kneels,
drinks the mountain’s blood,
paints the sky with birds —

all her life she sought to find
the mansion of sunrise,
and now
she has arrived.

(The sentry kneels,
invites her to pass
into the starry arcade;

before passing inside
she stops and whispers
in his ear;

his face tightens in despair
as she disappears
inside the door.)

Written by

I’m not in the Matrix. I AM the Matrix.

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