The midnight tree stands waiting in time folds where our better selves run naked and laugh, unashamed.
Its leaves collect star dew and drip down on young, unafraid faces like mana, like love before the fall.
The midnight tree is just a memory, a waiting for times to come, times to come again.
The midnight tree blossoms in the grey-grey eyes of newborn babes, haunting remembrance...loving embrace.
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