the smoke curls, rising little demons in the air as the incense-scented potion breathes magic through my hair and in this silent, secret space time all around begins to slow and the voice of night around me starts to sing tones deep and low with limbs and senses numbing I am lost to all my pain as the space beyond confronts me come and fill me up again. with the taste of her flowers on my lips and in my mind I hear the songs of far off lands whose innumerable echoes leap and bound to my ears, my eyes, this heaven in my hands. -lupus
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