The light catches on the green, shades dull to sharp,
Subtle tones accentuated, hard tones softened
As light picks through the stringed vine, plucking it like a harp;
Ambience is allowed, each edge smoothed. In the end
You don't feel anything but warmth, shades orange and red
Crisp beneath the feet. Dying embers;
Soon they will be ash.
Soon the light will be gone.
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