Riding the delicate webs of time.
The night is an illusion of fragrance.
My mind is rushing madly in lulling rhythms.
Vivid embers linger gracefully.
The delight shines with passionate streams.
Your essence will burst forth into bloom.
As I rest on the brink.
My heart spills quietly into rapture.
In the vanishing I will nestle in sweet reluctance.

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