I can only whisper to you through vaults of time
hoping my pleas will reach out with their urgency.
I was young when vision spiraled from my mind
and swept me into halls of lavender darkness.
Lying furled in bear-skins, silver fox,
oiled and scented, fetal in carved larch,
my hair braided with fragile grasses – I looked beautiful;
safe in the sacred ice of my forever.
But now, pooled in insecurity, I lie exposed.
The erudite peer, probe with shaming curiosity.
Return me to the mellow depths of eternity,
beneath Northern lights and ffiords,
in everlasting peace.
.It is my right
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