vana

Silently it beckons
Strums of lyres and whispers
of sinister realms
Sprouting needles of desire
Tickling soles to explore

Foliage blinds the sun
Flickering lights of fireflies
and glowworms
Twinkling gems in the underbrush
Tugging the tails of moonbeams

The core a copy of the exterior
Shades of black and silver
Blurring the lines of before and now
Leaving no trace