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You are the sound that penetrates the darkness,

And the warm silence that precedes and follows,

You are the ringing of a telephone that falls upon

The ears of an elderly man, whose only company is

His isolation. You are the light that blinds and also

Guides the weary traveller, the headstrong hero.

You are the streaks of moonlight that my curtains

Cannot quite catch, flickering beautifully on the ceiling,

Disrupting my sleep. You are the cold gust of wind

On the most humid of days, the ice in my drink.

You are the body in my bed, and the emptiness that

It leaves behind. You are the smile on my lips and

The spring in my step.

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