With Angels voice she speaks of that which was,
that which wasn't,
that which may be.
With Feline eyes she looks with hunger at what's there,
at what's not,
at what will be.
With Leo's ears she listens to the voice of the virtuous,
of the lost,
of the profane.
Her mind's eye beholds the darkness of the digital echoes,
Cries of the lamenting damned,
An Island of green, split asunder by black, adrift in the ocean of white.
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