The last lights danced across the field a golden ballet as twilight took hold. The brief glimmer of magic between sun might and moon mystic pull. The echoing winds and shifting shadows seem sorrowful as if longing for the day to never end. This gildd moment glistens with longing remorse and yet stands perfect. The point between two things longs to be both and is eternally neither.
Such is life.
ECHO ECHO
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