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'But the soul becomes fond' she said, as another day lay down and died.
'Is it not time' I said, to abandon these chains
that bind us and gather together the wood to fuel our fire.
'Fear not' she said 'For as love itself seeks
our nectar, so too will time grant you a reprieve'.
Words that washed over me as the waves lapped against me
and the waters of time wished to envelope me and kiss my very soul.

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