You gave me the courage to open the box of darkness I had left unkempt,
Who knew that my weathered heart could still garter a storm, its wintry embrace,
Subside the violent eddies, by the blow of your song, your quiet lament,
Pummel the overbearing winds, with the courtesy of a flap of your wings.
Ensue the harvest, the reaping, and then the weaving to outpace,
The crumbling of the edifice, to spoor out treasure in the ruins.
I sit bemused and map out a faceless sky, its shades and tones.
Filling out the infinitude of pages, with fickle stories of stellar streams,
Trying to capture an obscure remembrance in the scramble of my bones.
But only you can piece them together, you are the map key.
Bring down the heavens, breathe life to the overarching dreams,
Weave through, connect the dots, make sense of my story.
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