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Poetry

Her

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In The Name Of The Most Humble and The Most Arrogant

On this holy afternoon, we think of Her and Her poetry.

When She entered a room, She believed that time stopped for Her.

In Her light, She dragged even the most downtrodden out of their miserable slumber; such was Her power.

When She chose to focus Her pen on a living creature, she brought him to life.

And in his ignorance, he believed that he had created that life himself.

But She was merciful, She overlooked his flaws and immortalised him in pen anyway.

For She was a being of pure energy,

She knew that despite the egos of those She immortalised,

That energy could be neither created nor destroyed.

And so on this holy afternoon, we think of Her and Her poetry.

Worshiping not the characters of Her pen,

But Her,

And above all,

Her Pen.

 

 

 

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