Softly, they come
Shredding voices in the night
Like lightning in a neon sky
They resound the infertile path with
Embers of an emptiness
Once so eternally felt.
Softly, they charge
Faster toward the newborn light
That races from its fate and into sight.
Beneath the dewy dawn
Wet with blood from last night’s demons
Lies the broken bones of an unmarked grave.
Atop a mound,
The doe dreams of thunder.
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