The voice lures, quietly,
Like the gentle melody of the dark;
Slowly croons a lullaby, or
Notes dancing in a spark?

Tales of valiant knights it tells,
Lores of mystic dunes;
It flaunts of dazzling skies above, or
Worlds with a hundred moons?

The voice is fragrance,
Of willows and the wilderness;
Scent of fresh lemongrass it is, or
Sweet luck of a clover’s caress?

As the despaired winter,
Awaits the spring’s endearment;
The voice is peace to the wandering heart, or
To me, a final atonement?


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