| Among the sighs of stirring leaves,
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| The cloak of evening stillness shed,
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| A phantom light that turns and weaves
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| Descends upon the path ahead.
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| And all my faith resides
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| In that distant flame.
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| My joy, my grief, my life
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| Is a spirit’s game.
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| With one whisper, you draw me
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| Into the dark of night.
|
| And I know
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| That I’ve lost my passage home.
|
| But one breath, and I’m falling
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| Into your light,
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| And I find myself alone.
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| Now with each dream of breaking free,
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| I feel it vanish like a wave.
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| But every tide will reach the sea,
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| And every sorrow find its grave.
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| So I can’t help but come
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| When you call my name.
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| My hope, my fears, are one
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| In your spirit game.
|
| With one whisper, you draw me
|
| Into the dark of night.
|
| And I know
|
| That I’ve lost my passage home.
|
| But one breath, and I’m falling
|
| Into your light,
|
| And I find myself alone.
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| This soul of changing fire —
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| O, seer of whole desire,
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| I long to know what you know.
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| Into the deepest hollow
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| Or over the mounts to follow,
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| I’ll go wherever you go.
|
| With one whisper, you draw me
|
| Into the dark of night.
|
| And I know
|
| That I’ve lost my passage home.
|
| But one breath, and I’m falling
|
| Into your light,
|
| And I find myself alone |