Perfect Twilight: sycamore

The glowing red sun

Descends the steps to the Underworld

Time becomes tangible,

And in a moment imperceptible, 

Everything changes.

Shadows slip from their momentary prison,

Taking hold of the world

Reclaiming the domain of darkness

An ethereal glow in the air.

Spirits roaming free

Within the mystical, perfect twilight. 

The End

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