The Gumdrop Children will be dancing barefoot on the frosty mists but they never shiver. Their glowing faces are painted with youth's eternal smile. They are oblivious to mortality's envious scrutiny.
The Gumdrop Children will be singing with musical accents at the quietest climax of moonlit nights. Their red lips are curled in rhythmic O's. Their foggy breath stings the still, black air. The Sirens have learned their art from them.
The Gumdrop Children will be visible from afar but vanish when approached. They are shy angels in love with the mystique and disdainful of the mundane. They do not appear before any base presence. The contact would kill them.
The Gumdrop Children will be snuggling with the stars of the salted skies, which coat their skin like an astrological glitter. What wonderful promise they harbor in the eyes of the irreligious!
The Gumdrop Children will be baptizing themselves daily with their small, divine hands. They live continually devoid of guilt. Their skin is burnished and free of blemish.
The Gumdrop Children will be fasting without food; their nourishment is self-satisfaction; they are sustained by their philosophic intensity; their eyes see through vulgarity's transparency.
The Gumdrop Children keep the world pure, though it kills them slowly. They absorb our pain. and their ambivalent livers lovingly convert it. When they overcome their jaundice, they will beg for more.
Our waters fester, our stars die, and the moonlight's frozen peace has begun to disappear. But the Gumdrop Children restore balance and maintain peace at the cost of their bodies.
They will usher in a stronger equilibrium when the sun dies.
For they can withstand extreme cold.
For they can withstand extreme cold.
And our apple cores will naturally grow because of it all.
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