Crystalline shards of,
A world made from glass,
With frosted ice mirrors,
An era to pass.
So fragile crafted,
Not ready for war,
As though it was drafted,
To drift out of lore.
Ethereal palace,
A dusting of light,
A lucid creation,
Surreal in the night.
Immortal illusion,
Horizon of white,
An endless delusion,
To save us from plight.
A perfect creation,
A whisper can shatter,
It means the whole world,
Although, what does it matter?
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