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Silken the whisper of fire fly wings caressing my ears with the moiré satin of evening. The jewels of their courtship, those tiny winking emerald beacons seduce me. My eyes close plunging me spinning as I dream that I can fly… Softly, through raw painted velvet skies soaring past gravity’s crushing burden I glide above the roof. Surveying all below me, aerial the view which enhances my perspective. I await the crescent moon’s rising. Her haunting opal light burnishes the night for the fireflies and me.
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