we find ourselves
at the farthest
point from
the swirling ball
of fiery death
tilted away
into the longest
darkest night
of the dying year
when winter’s court
takes possession
of a hemisphere
snuffing out the light
as the ebon tide
kisses the earth
with cerulean lips

i long for
a coven
to make piecemeal
magicks as we
tap into these
primordial powers
just outside of
sol’s desperately
faded corona

as peresphone kisses
hades passionately
deeply burrowed
beneath the snows
to make love until
the ice melts away
to swell the streams
and verdant growths
once again spring forth
from the frozen soil

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