My heart doesn’t know;

it wanders, it strays,

it leaves and it stays,

and so has it been for all of its days,

but the Earth opens up to your delicate touch,

the nightingale croons her crestfallen tune.

The autumn swallows you up in its embrace.

I looked, I almost.. then your voice pierced through my existence.

For a moment it was only you there.

Alone. Blanketed by the color of autumn,

for a moment I was there, for the first time I was there,

and it was all I wanted to be.

But day does not stay day,

bliss does not exist separate from anguish.

As quickly as you had been you were not,

the rain became rain, when I’d wished for a drought.

How can he who comes out of the dark return to it?

But how can a tree grow without the fall of this rain,

how can the dawn break without the dusk and the taint,

how can I expect to ever know sadness if I’d never known love?

What is color if I only see grey?

What are songs if not sung?

What’s a day without sun?

So is my life, as it was before,

from eyes full of light to a soul full of yore


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