Flying feather golden and red.
Hiding her splendour is nonsense.
Knowing the essence of life.
Her eyes evidential of her ancient yarn.
With the excuse of cramping affection hidden options become visible.
Time arrives for all of us when stayin’
sprout is more riskful then bursting to bloom.
Balefire is made of cinnamon and myrrh.
Expected time has come of fated novation.
After the smoke divides a renewed one comes to life.
She is the old and the reborned at the same time.
She’s opened for integrity.
Follows the endless road of changes.
She sees through lies despite appearances.
She overcomes all the games exhausting.
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