After being healed, she was placed back onto her feet,
Upheld her hands, grasping green keys,
Squirming in the early night air, sewing fresh jade sleeves for her to wear,
Culminating into two extendable green spears, that could be lengthened,
To strike dragons of old out of the blood scented sky...
Forward came a multitude, of tiny deaths, tipped with venom most foul,
Set loose from her chest, legs, shoulders, arms and the bangs of her head,
Each cell of her's was converted into ammunition and fired from hundreds of guns,
Racing at the pace of song, heard rather than seen, blurry to those attuned,
To Sharin's soul.
Paul and Kevin barked at the merry three,
Play the song of quickening, as fast as you can!
We must accelerate our core melodies!