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Artist
Too Bright
The world is made of shadows and of grey,
But he was born to burn it all away.
His mind is not a room, it is a sky,
Where comets race and burning eagles fly.
It spills out from his head in waves of light,
A beautiful defiance of the night.
He is the torch, the beacon, and the flare,
With galaxies entangled in his hair.
A lonely gift, to be the only one,
Who walks the earth while carrying the sun.