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You cause my breath to still
Your handiwork of splendid intricacy
Suspended from the armpits of nature,
vividly displayed through the unfolding mist,
holds me in this moment.
Adornments of the ancient bushland,
Your labour of survival, purposefully created,
Surpass any mortal attempts of mimicry.
Mocking Minerva’s intention of entrapment
You continue triumphantly
Weaving delicate decorations,
Catching acclamation afresh.