Hiding behind a blanket white glade,
A dark goddess rises from her shade,
Her face unseen by many men,
Those who gaze fall again,
For the aura of truth lies in separate hearts,
And even the smallest flower deserves its start.
Those that worship, those that tell,
Fear and Anxiety she must quell,
The darkness left as a flurry of white light,
To last until she whispers good night.


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