In the twilight, a soul is flung wide open,
Where the weary day is like a phantom made of dust,
And every moment is the blade of a sword’s end,
Cutting the heart in the dread of the night.
But she is a candle in the window,
The whole world sighs in her eyes,
And even death would fall to its knees,
Just to hear that greeting once.
Oh, exhausted one – do not fall upon the stars,
For stars are but a phantom over the darkness.
Your breath is a bird. Hold it in your hands.
And I stand, invisible, behind you.
Invisible Protection
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