She had spoken her peace and sang her swansong to the horizon of time.

With a shallow voice, the echo of her humanity rang back before the great silence crept in.

From this oaken knoll, she etched her spirit in a pillar of autumnal grace upon the golden sky.

Which began away layers of her existence as the wind carried her soul into the ethereal realm.

And beneath this august sky fire, I began to see all life plateau on the far away ridge.

Alas, the sun began to set forever and took with her, the austere essence of her life.

From which of these pillars will I celebrate her ending call? From whence will I call upon her soul?

The pillars of her spirit are now eternally coalesced into being, and all life has faded from her lips.

Until the final days of this existence, we will forever walk these hallways of haunted spirits.