The light in me is waning
Hear the whispering trees
The power at my fingers is draining
Hear the whispering trees
Cause now the branches whisper
Secrets to my heart
Hear them sighing
Hear them crying
Leaves litter the ground at my feet
Rustling in the wind
And warming to the sun
I lie among them
And become as them
Quiet
Calm
Rustling gently in the wind
But my wind is that of thoughts
Not of air
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