Morning light, my morning light, Slips slow over my love, And clothes her in gossamer. And turning now, she whispers, Words of my creation, But still I cannot hear them. In her rebirth I saw hope, I saw her phoenix rise, Felt her sun-warm fire once more. And sighing now, she slumbers, Through dreams of my doing, But still I cannot shape them. In her rebirth I found warmth, I found her company, Reclaimed what Death had taken. And dreaming now, she wonders, "Why does she love me so?" But still I cannot tell her. In her rebirth I found pain, I found her memory, Saw lost truth behind old lies. And worried now, she questions, "Where is the past I had?" But still I cannot answer. In her rebirth I found grief, I found her destiny, Believed in her wish to leave. And stirring now, she forgets. "I am with my true love." But still I cannot hold her. In her rebirth I found light, Yet lost it in darkness, That drowned her within my soul. And waking now, she rises, And letting go my dream, I watch as she slowly fades. Morning light, my morning light, Slips slow over my mind; Clothes my loss in memory.
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Anders Main PageAnders Sandberg / firstname.lastname@example.org