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@lcooley@mastodon.green Morning

"Once, they say, this land was lit by candles
made of ice, when water burned, glazing the darkness
of endless night. Day had not dawned on any window.
We need more light, not darkness,
while we are alive. She seized a shard of incandescent ice
and rose into the sky, scattering a vast white wake
of stars, which some might say were angels,
if, in temperate darkness, we still believed in angels.
At the world’s last window, I light another candle."