a familiar whim

Eloquence was moot:
it had all been said, already
and action that was not rage
grew impotent and aching for Humanity,
forsaken in its wretched age.

But it was warm and sunny
and the surge of a familiar whim returned,
urging her to kiss her beloveds,
gather what luxuries she could carry
and go to rest in a beautiful spot,
there to watch the world
until her time did stop.

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