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Burgundy

In ruby-hued satin, she pirouettes alone, Her form a silhouette against the tone Of evening's blush, where shadows softly play, Amidst the burgundy that wraps her frame at bay. With every step, the fabric billows wide, A skirt of old-money elegance inside, Yet her bare skin glistens like polished stone, Ethereal, untainted, utterly her own. Her arms, entwined, create a pose of grace, A Botticelli vision in a modern space, As if the nymphs of ancient lore had come, To dance and twirl, unbound by mortal thumb. Time stands still in this suspended scene, Where art and life entwine, a sanguine dream, Of freedom's fleeting nature and its hold, On hearts that beat within a living mold. She is a vision born of color, light, And the intoxicating thrill of unbridled might, A fleeting moment preserved in embered thought, Of a woman bold, in radiance untaught.
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Elven Echoes of the Celestial Forge

Elven Echoes of the Celestial Forge

A lyrical exploration of a forgotten elven civilisation, where nature and technology harmoniously coexisted a million years ago.




In the twilight of a million eons,
Where starlight wove through emerald leaves,
The elves danced on the cusp of creation,
Shaping whispers into crystalline tapestries.

Their spires kissed the sky,
Woven with silver filaments,
Each note in harmony with the winds,
Mechanisms of light, a symphony of breath.

Glistening springs of liquid dawn,
Powered by the pulse of ancient trees,
Every flower a prism, every branch a bridge,
Connecting realms unseen, intertwined.

With knowledge draped in moonlit shadows,
They sculpted time with deft fingers,
In their gaze, the cosmos spiraled,
Infinite echoes of potential unbound.

But the stars turned, a slow lament,
Eons eroded the golden seams,
Yet in whispers of the rustling leaves,
Their legends pulse, like heartbeats in the dark.

Lost to the mists of forgotten lore,
Yet alive in the pulse of the cosmos,
Elven spirits dance in the starlit ether,
Crafting dreams, through the veil of time.

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