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She stands where galaxies dare to bloom, In robes of shimmer, stitched from moon. Her hair, a tide of midnight flame, Her gaze, a whisper none can name.
Around her dance the hues of thought, In spirals dreams and stars have wrought. She is the echo, pulse, and spark— A goddess carved from light and dark.
No sky contains her radiant flow, She moves where only visions go. A prism soul, forever spun— The universe, and yet just one.