We become one, lost. The leaves are turning, balancing in the wind. Fresh flowers bloom, new buds grow. In the decay of one dream, new hope may swell. She sits down upon the docks, her name long forgotten to the crowd passing by. Upon the precipice into the emerald sea, where kelp forests rise against the ebb of a weak tide – the moon is gone but the sun grows stronger.
All things are in equilibrium, except for her. Torpor comes and goes, but she can’t deny what she is. Ruby Red-light, the name she aspires to, draped in green – a stranger to the men she walks amongst.


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