At the crossroads at midnight
my lady did swear
that she must be alone
to face up to her demons.

“Please understand that I must
be aware of just who I am
and where I’ve come from.”

I sat by the bridge
as she set forth her flames,
her sorcerer lore, her alchemic runes
so she’d know who to honor, to break
and to blame,
what she’d been made for, 
her journey, her tools.

At the crossroads, past midnight,
just before dawn,
my lady thrice nodded and 
stamped out her flames.
She beckoned I join her out on the meadow
to kiss and rejoice
and reveal our true names.

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