Stoop So Low

It was dawning dusk when the milky way
Spilled out upon the grand mountains that play
The melody of sunset just now passed
And leave naught but ebbing glow for the last.

And as she had watched the sunset back then,
She waited to see what morning could send,
But those who don’t cry under that spilled milk
Are only the ones spun closed in iron silk.

As time passed by she knew the dusk would end,
The night would come, small flame her eyes to lend,
And it would fade to neverending bliss
When one set still for the all-in Maker’s kiss.

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