Am I then your estranged creator,
O fugitive image,
Sprung from my parturient hand?
Yet unilluminated in the wilderness,
I burned to touch you with my eyes.
With vision I encompassed you,
And colored you with imagination.
I laid your head against cerulean blue;
Made your lashes long, your eyes to dream;
Tinted your lips faintly to smile.
I stroked your breast with gold.
My hand trembled
Like a chrysalis ready to burst.
I saw you rise,
Delicate mirage,
Above the wilderness
And depart.
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