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In the sheer calm of midnight,

Beneath a thousand stars

And the red eye of Mars:

Upward creeps a subtle light

Like many wan fusing scars.


Silent frost-light of the North,

A pale, peculiar green

Ris’n in the dark, unseen:

Hid from the earthly eyes, seeps forth

A strange and iridescent sheen.


High above the sleeping plain,

Beneath the blazing host

This eerie, gliding ghost

A sheet, like glimmering rain

Delicately strong and vast.


A soft, mysterious light

Pale, yet fiercely gleaming

Far, though ever-nearing

In a swift, immobile flight.

Cold, yet ever burning bright.

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