the sparks are spent,
the euphoria's over,
the blood draws in
to its quiet pace,
dropping down
to the ground,
the eagle rests her eyes
where things that matter
lie waiting
with folded wings.
the euphoria's over,
the blood draws in
to its quiet pace,
dropping down
to the ground,
the eagle rests her eyes
where things that matter
lie waiting
with folded wings.
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