The children of her grandchildren’s children
think of her as nothing more than a myth.
She has let the lie simmer for centuries…
“For survival,” she says, but thinks, For convenience.
The cold ashes groveling through her veins feel nearly normal
she is simple; an occupier of land, as special as all other human animals.
But her ‘natural now’ has been born anew inside the heart of another.
Ashen memories rush back to life, feeding the soul of one hundred fires.
The cloak is cracked by the passion of a wild child.
Land, sky, girl… life and death glow as One.
Obscurity’s mask is ripped and burned;
magic bursts, naturally alight, from under the Witch’s skin.
“Fire Fly” by Octavian Vaughan
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